


The inevitability of ... nature

by Anchanee



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Alpha!Q, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omega Verse, Omega!Bond, Self-Hatred, Slash, Soul Bond, commitmentphobe, heat - Freeform, perceived non-consentual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:10:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 72,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchanee/pseuds/Anchanee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I know this is the one thousand and first story of our favourite Double-Oh-Agent and his Quartermaster. Also, probably the millionth story in the Omega Verse but nevertheless, the idea got to me.</p><p>Although, this time you will experience the Omegaverse of 00Q with a little twist. There is an agent who detests being an omega and an alpha who is - due to his biology - predisposed to provide for those under his care, even if they don’t want to be provided for.</p><p>Our story starts in front of a well-known painting, continue with someone trying to kill himself with alcohol poisoning after losing the only woman in his life who ever cared for him - although we all know that M could be a bitch sometimes ;) - and then we start with something neither of them could have ever expected.</p><p>It's not new but it is different and I am updating a edited version to make it all better.</p><p>---------</p><p>Edit: As surprising as this may be, after more than eight months of being online a fellow reader took it upon herself to beta this story. I will update chapter by chapter, without any doubt improving the story greatly.</p><p>My gratitude goes to you Amanda. I’m looking forward to seeing your suggestions and hearing your thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue (My World)

In our world (this world, in this Omega Verse) there are many Alphas, however; most of them are Betas who declare themselves Alphas because they have a caring or dominant streak. Who should contradict them, in the end it doesn't matter what you are, as long as you function in society.

Then, there are several Omegas, the majority of whom are Betas with a submissive and suppliant personality trait. The disadvantage of being a true Omega, you go into heat. It doesn’t happen very often, but sooner or later biology gets its way.

As with every other "unwanted" condition in life, there are drugs to prevent it. They work best if they are coded for your biology. Not very complicated, not very hard, a blood sample and a good hospital will do the trick. Pricey but manageable. Tablets from the pharmacy work as well but don't suppress the symptoms completely. Of course, to get the medication, you have to be registered with your designation. Most people don't care, some of them do. For those who do, there are other ways, illegal alleys and a high risk because - let's be honest - what's sold between a dumpster and a rain-gutter might not be the cleanest substance.

Suppressants work for both, Alphas and Omegas, because biology influences them both. Alphas have a natural need to care for somebody, they react - well their body reacts - to hormones, social situations, and the needs of those who surround them. It is as all consuming as the desire and the fever of a heat-cycle and the physical cravings of an Omega. Most revel in it because it gives them power over those around them, well … most people are jerks, we all know that.

But in those rare, really rare cases when you find the "right" partner, when one of the few true Alphas, finds the one precious Omega who is perfect for him or her, then the connection is beyond anything imaginable. Stronger than anything in the world, even stronger than love, because when an Alpha and an Omega bind, there are no more questions, their souls, which  had been ripped apart, are finally one again, and nothing, will ever stand in their way.

 

~ 007 ~

 


	2. A Bloody Big Ship

"Q"

"007"

When their hands met Q couldn't help but smile, even though 007 didn't. The touch caused a tender feeling inside of his chest and Q was sure, that he would be able to work smoothly with the infamous 007. It felt good; it felt right. So when he turned around one last time for his “returning the equipment in one piece” request, he meant the agent as well as the gear.

When the quartermaster left the gallery he replayed their talk in his mind. It was refreshing for him to not be challenged because of his youth. Well, the agent HAD challenged him, had called him on his subjective lack of experience. But he HAD done it, not sat beside Q, looking down at him, judging him in secret. Q had liked that. Whatever was bound to happen next – and he knew at least of the last assignment that had gone so terribly wrong for the Double-Oh – he would do everything in his power to protect him. Because that’s what he was supposed to do. He liked working for the MI6. Liked the challenges, liked the tinkering and the toys. But in the end, for Q, it was all about the people.

He was a designated alpha, although that was not written in any official document; he was well aware of the “drawbacks” that came with such a status. Medicine could subdue the physical consequences of his biology, but his state of mind, his instinctual need to protect the people around him, could never be suppressed. It was simply who he was. Everything he worked for was meant to support his agents, to protect them and ensure their safety. To ensure their weapons were excellent, the radios were flawless, explosives were effective, and body-armour was perfect. Having a car worth several thousand pounds explode in the field was a nuisance, but having an agent die was unacceptable.

So, confident that he had done the best he could and prepared for the mission that was about to start, he returned to Q branch and looked over the specifications of the Shanghai-assignment once again. The minions around him were busy setting up the servers, securing the network, making sure that no one would hack into their system, like someone had done with M’s computer in the old building. Q had complete faith in his colleagues.

The work in Q-branch was easy most of the time. You code, you counter, you engage. He hadn’t held the horrific incident from the old headquarter against them because everybody made mistakes. That’s why code was double and triple-checked by several people before it went online. Weapons, gears and toys were tested, and then again and again and again, to make sure that the agents, who put their lives in the hands of Q-branch, were as safe as they could get. But handling an assignment had to be flawless. No insecurities, no second chances, no mistakes. Because of that, only a few members of Q-branch were allowed as handlers, and they had to go through at least one thousand hours of support, before they were allowed even remotely close to a Double-Oh.

When it came to Commander Bond, most minions retreated willingly. Nobody seemed to like handling him, but Q found it equally challenging and calming. He got nervous when he lost contact, but he had faith in the agent to make it out, like he had countless times before. Bond challenged him when he ignored his suggestions to find a way on his own, but that was a trait all the Double-Oh’s had in common. They deemed themselves above their handlers until they were in desperate need of them. So Q took a sip of his tea, waited for the lost end to present itself and then guided his charges into the right direction. When it was really important, Q was able to make himself heard and his usual calm and content voice became hard and commanding. They all learned to deal with that and each and every one had made it out alive until now.

So when Bond pushed the button on his radio after nearly a whole day of radio silence, Q-branch mirrored an anthill. Fingers flew over keyboards, rerouted tracers and called in favours to get help to their agent as soon as possible. Unfortunately, they were no miracle workers, so the woman could not be saved in the end. Q saw Bond’s hard eyes in the camera of a helicopter when they carried the dead body away, but he knew the agent would make it home in one piece. In the end that was all that mattered.

The presents he brought home were a sight to behold. The coding was beautiful and the concept challenging. That fieldwork had its perks, showed when 007 was the one to identify the string of letters and numbers to crack the net allowing Q to expand it into a map of the London-underground-system. It was truly marvellous and Q revelled in the genius mind of the programmer who wrote it. Therefore he realized too late that he had brought the enemy into his own home. When he disconnected the laptop it was far too late, the damage was done.

Everyone in Q-branch was frustrated and tired that night. So when Q finally called it a day, they left gratefully. That gave him time to deal with Silva.

When Tanner appeared beside him, one look was more than enough. Tanner’s first priority was M; Q’s was Bond because he was “his” field agent, just like everyone else, and he would make damned sure that he would return in one piece. Together they worked, mostly in silence. Tanner’s suggestions were welcome now and then, but most of the time he just stood by nervously supervising the work of the quartermaster even though he barely understood it.

When Mallory appeared behind them Q could see the colour drain out of the Chief of Staff’s face. He knew what was bound to happen, but he refused to step back. Mallory however didn’t seem to expect him to. He suggested an alternative route for M and 007 and left them to their work. With that decision he truly earned Q’s respect. It was all about people, even for Mallory, the only resource that could not be built or repaired in a lab.

When all hell broke loose Q’s fingers already hurt. There was nothing to be done, but he wished desperately that he would be able to change that. Ambulances were called, firemen summoned but in the end, all that remained of Skyfall was stone and ashes and M was dead. When Tanner finally put his hand on Q’s shoulder and told him to go home he looked at least ten years older. M had been a cold-hearted bitch, but she had done everything in her power to protect their country. Q had always respected that. Powering down his workstation, disconnecting and isolating Silva’s virus as well as he could, he finally went home, drew a blanket over his head and sank into oblivion.

 

~ 007 ~

 

When he returned to work the day after the next, Q-branch was buzzing with excitement. Everybody was nervous and most of all, personally offended that the virus had gotten their system. Schematics of a new security system were sketched on the big white wall that lined one of their conference rooms, a new system that should ensure that something like that never happened again. When Q went over them he corrected minor details, but altogether it was a well-thought-out system that would be improved even more when online. They would code everything from scratch. The danger of an ex-agent going haywire was obviously a possibility they had to factor in. So they had divided into groups for coding, from now on nobody would know the whole design. Q was proud of his minions and concentrated on erasing every last trace of Silva’s virus by hand. Nobody would successfully interfere with their system again, he was sure of that.

Later the same evening Tanner stepped up to him. Tired, worn and still looking only remotely better than two days ago he informed Q that Bond – although definitely returned to London – had not reported in, nor was the agent anywhere to be found. Creasing his forehead Q left his workstation and retreated into his office. An agent missing was nothing he could tolerate. After going through all of Bond’s contacts and favourite places he hacked into MI6’s database. When he wasn’t able to find the agent on his own he needed more data to draw the right conclusions, to look for the right places.

He held his breath when studying the Double-Oh’s file. He was well aware of the designation of most of his agents; few kept it a secret and why should they? But this one – the most effective of them – had concealed it, and the quartermaster was well aware of his reasons. What he couldn’t understand was, why M had kept him in the first place, yet on the other hand, Bond had shown a devotion to her that was unparalleled. Now all of that made a lot more sense. Finally having a good clue where to find Bond Q left shortly after midnight.

Entering M’s house was not that hard for the quartermaster. The security system had been designed by Q-branch after all. What he wasn’t prepared for, although he should probably have seen it coming, was a totally pissed Double-Oh that sat on the floor next to the sofa, with several bottles of hard liquor surrounding him. When Q approached the agent, he didn’t even turn around. It was as if he was only waiting to be shot in the back of his head, anything that ended the pain. There were still a few hours till dawn but Q’s own medication was losing effect by now. He felt the insuperable need to go to the man, to help him, to comfort him and to tell him that everything would be alright. To do something, anything to end his tremendous suffering, because while Bond was the one who had lost his only anchor in the world, Q felt his pain as the man seemed to radiate it in waves.

When he kneeled down next to Bond, gently nudging the half-empty glass from his hands, he realized that there was nothing to be done. Bond was too hurt, too alone and far too intoxicated to react in any coherent way. Therefore Q retreated to the only thing that might have the slightest chance of working: biological imperatives. Summoning all his strength and persuasiveness he dragged the agent to his feet rather forcefully, ordering:

“You will come with me. Now!”

Bond blinked at the figure sluggishly, but allowed himself to be manipulated. The truth was, it felt rather good to not think and to simply follow orders. That was the world he knew. So he didn’t resist when he was pushed out of the door and urged into a taxi, although the shaking of the vehicle made him feel rather sick.

When Q opened the secured door to his apartment and gently guided the agent through, he had no plan whatsoever what to do with the man. The only thing he knew was that he would not, could not leave him alone. People of Bond’s designation did not deal well with loneliness, especially not after losing their anchor. A part of Q wondered how Bond had suppressed his natural urges to tie himself to someone, to submit. But on the other hand, he had done that. M might not have been his alpha but she had been strong enough to stabilize the agent, to keep him going. Bond had to be tremendously strong to deal with this life when he had no one to link himself to, for no amount of medication could suppress the feelings of loneliness and longing that lived in every Omega.

When Q felt the man at his side shudder and draw a forced breath he knew what was to come, so he maneuvered the two of them into his bathroom as fast as possible.

 

When Bond separated from the contents of his stomach – mostly liquid, no surprise there – he felt a strong arm surrounding his chest and a soothing hand holding up his head. Gentle words where whispered to calm him and ease his cramps, but he couldn’t understand them. After he had retched for the last time he felt a cool washcloth brushing over his temple. A rather authoritative “Stand up,” sounded right beside him and once again was he dragged to his feet and then placed against a counter. All lights were out; something he was really grateful for because he had the feeling that his head was about to explode; so he could not really make out the figure in front of him. He only noticed that his wrinkled and rather smelly clothes were removed.

His overall impression was that it felt good having this person close. He was his anchor point for now, so the world stopped shaking for just one moment. Nevertheless, he didn’t feel up to start anything in his current situation, so he tried to brush the hands away. But long fingers quickly encircled his wrists, pinning them to his sides.

“Stop that!”

Another command and Bond felt himself unable to contradict it because it seeped straight into his bones. He was too raw to put up a fight so he simply complied. Gently his clothes were removed and thrown away. Shivering and tired he looked down on his worn body, a body far too old for his line of duty. M had known it, but had sent him out anyway. Now she was dead. What a disappointment he was.

Instead of caressing his shivering body, the person in front of him removed his clothes too, and Bond somehow felt compelled to sink down onto his knees in front of him. He couldn’t comprehend the impulse, but didn’t really fight it. His opposite however, seemed to have other plans, because before his knees could hit the floor, he was dragged into a shower cubicle and first cold, then warm water started to run over his exhausted body.

His host stepped up to him and the touches; he had somehow missed before; resumed in the warm, wet darkness. He couldn’t resist anymore. Just a few minutes of peace and calm were everything he wanted. A few moments of blissful ignorance where he could forget what had happened, chasing away the flames and the blood. So all he could do was lean into the touch, place his head on the shoulder of the rather slim figure behind him and allow himself to be washed by tender hands.

When the water stopped his first impulse was to start it again. It had felt so good to be taken care of, not needing to think, to plan or to seduce, just to be. But the hands of the stranger gently pushed him out of the shower, towelled him down and nudged him towards a great bed. Resigning he lay down.

There was always a price, and he was not strong enough to resist any more. He simply allowed himself to be manipulated and tugged between two fleecy bed sheets. All he wanted was to be left alone, to curl up and sleep. Sleep until the pain and the loneliness stopped, although a part of him was aware that that would never happen.

When a slim figure crawled up to him from behind he couldn’t stop the approach. He let himself be dragged back against a warm chest and felt arms wind around his neck and upper body. As he was lying there in the darkness, he realized he was barely able to think through the haze of alcohol and pain, but after a while he registered that the arms were just holding him, not brushing up, not stroking down, doing nothing but keeping him warm and safe.

He was not used to be cared for, but nothing else happened, and although he knew that it was wrong, wrong and dangerous, he couldn’t help but relax gradually because of the soft breaths that ghosted over his neck and the strong arms that held him safe.

After a while his brain restarted, since the majority of the alcohol had left his body. Images of Skyfall reappeared before his eyes, Silva gloating, M dying, and for the first time, since the death of the only woman that even remotely qualified as a mother-figure, hot tears streamed out of his eyes and his chest was wrenched by huge sobs.

A part of him wanted to suppress the feeling, to hold himself together but he was too weak, too lonely and too raw. When the gentle arms turned him around, he couldn’t resist but wind himself around the slender body that lay behind him, burying his face in its chest as he cried. It felt good, safe to be here, to think about anything else and slowly, with the sky already started to lighten up, he finally fell into a restful sleep.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Q was unsettled to the core of his being. Never in his life had he seen the agent that distressed and his chest hurt so much mirroring his agent’s pain. He felt the desperate need to sooth the man, to protect him and calm him down. When Bond dry heaved for several moments over his toilet he decided the agent needed a shower and a warm bed more than anything else. Although Bond seemed too far-gone to be aware of what happened, also he resisted to be undressed. But Q was to driven by his most basic needs to tend and to care to have any of that.

He subdued the man’s movements insistently and maneuvered him into the shower. The water was too cold at first but gradually warmed and Q was able to clean the remaining blood and dirt, sweat and alcohol from the nearly unconscious body in his arms. Luckily the omega in front of him had finally given up and just submitted to his guidance. He allowed the alpha to manipulate him into any position desired until he was clean and his hair had been washed.

After drying Bond, Q gently nudged the agent towards his bedroom, due to the pure lack of alternatives of anything for him to sleep on. Nearly instantly the man curled up between the sheets. After drying himself and putting on his pyjama bottoms, Q followed him into bed. No matter what was decent or appropriate, he felt unable to leave Bond alone. He looked too desperate and too small for Q to resist his own desires to comfort him personally.

He felt Bond stiffen when he stretched out next to him and the tension didn’t leave his body even when Q looped his arms around the older man. It took a few minutes of gentle coaxing, miniscule movements, and taking deliberately slow breaths against the agent’s neck to calm him down. Only when Bond realized that Q really didn’t plan on taking advantage of his weak state, did he gradually relax.

After that, all hell seemed to break loose. He started to shiver slightly, then to quiver massively. Tremors went through his body that seemed to shake him to the core and then the sobbing started. Not wanting to leave Bond alone in his grieving Q dragged him closer, turned him around so that he was able to wind his arms as well as his legs around the crying figure.

Trying to ignore the tears he shed in sympathy, the quartermaster just held onto Bond, riding with him through the waves of desperation and pain until the early dawn. Four hours later, around nine o’clock, Q rose tiredly, to inform Tanner of the whereabouts of their missing agent. He decided to work from home and the Chief of Staff approved of his decision. Although the beta would never be able to completely comprehend Q’s desire to stay with Bond, he accepted the wish of his quartermaster and ended the chat. After a brief check-up on the security detail of their mainframe the quartermaster resumed his work remotely.

 

~ 007 ~

 

When Bond finally woke up it was around midday. He felt tired and worn, and knew that something was missing although he couldn’t pinpoint it. Blinking heavily against the strong midday sun that filtered through closed curtains, he dragged himself into an upright position. Having only very dim memories of last night, he was well aware that he wasn’t in M’s home any more. He clearly remembered the feeling of protection and warmth, but these feelings didn’t match anybody he knew and a stranger was completely out of the question. Hung-over and thirsty, Bond looked around to find his clothes, but couldn’t see them. Only grey sweatpants and a white shirt sat on the end of the bed. Reluctant to wear someone else’s clothes, but clearly preferring them to being naked, he put them on, realizing that they were a rather tight fit.

Cautiously leaving the bedroom through a small corridor, he passed one door on the left – where he dimly remembered the bathroom to be – and one on the right, which he opened carefully only to find a broom-cupboard full of cleaning supplies he approached the main room of the flat. A mop of dark hair indicated a person lounging on the couch and rapid-firing keystrokes spoke of intense concentration. A familiar voice said over the typing, “Coffee is in the kitchen right behind you. You should drink a glass of water as well. I am sure after the last two days you have more alcohol than blood in your system.”

“Q?”

The face that turned towards him was slightly overworked and tired but clearly annoyed. The quartermaster’s look was something between exasperation and relief to see the agent upright. When the man didn’t move, his younger host sighed, put the laptop aside and stood up. He was wearing attire similar to that of the Double-Oh, only that he wore a cardigan on top of the shirt.

He approached his guest and when he looked over him Bond felt a strange desire to lower his eyes in submission. But he had not achieved anything in life by giving in to his nature, so he held his quartermaster gaze, provoking a small smile before the young man stepped around him and entered the kitchen.

When he followed, he found Q preparing a fresh cup of coffee for him and he couldn’t resist closing in on the young man until he was standing right behind him, inhaling the clean and strong scent of Q. He suppressed a slight shiver at the pure comfort he felt at the young man’s proximity. Retreating to a small table he let Q serve him coffee, a plain piece of toast and two capsules.

Picking them up, he found no markings on their side so he simply asked, “Painkillers?”

“Suppressants!”

Letting the capsules fall as if they had burned a hole through his hand, he started to retreat from the kitchen, only to be stopped by a rather forceful command:

“Sit and eat!”

Reacting instinctively, Bond felt himself sitting down again and picking up a piece of toast before being able to put it down again without taking a bite. Partially triumphant, but mainly confused he asked, “Why are you giving me … Why am I here?”

He didn’t want to hear the answer to the first question; hearing from Q’s mouth that he knew about his designation was more than Bond could handle at the moment. So he went for the more obvious question with the less evident answer.

He felt confused when he saw Q taking a pill out of another vial swallowing it with a mouthful of his freshly brewed Earl Grey. Even more so, when he saw the quartermaster gripping the counter behind him so strongly that his knuckles turned white. After a full minute, Q finally let go of the counter and sat down facing Bond.

With a slow exhale he offered, “Eat and I will explain.”

It was not a command, not something he needed to resist. It was more of a deal for answers and he did feel slightly hungry – he truly couldn’t remember when he had eaten something last. He bit into his dry toast, swallowing it with a mouthful of freshly brewed coffee that seemed to be made exactly to his liking.

 

Being well aware that in his current situation where half-truths and evasions would be rather counter-productive, Q decided that it was best to start with his own designation.

“You are here because I felt unable to leave you on your own. While an omega needs to focus on an alpha, an alpha feels the undisputable need to take care of the people around him. Tanner approached me yesterday afternoon and after being unable to find you for nearly six hours. It was then that I decided I needed to know more about your life to find you. Your MI6 file provided that information. With its help I was able to draw the right conclusions and found you at your last …at M’s house.

You were too intoxicated to resist and I found myself not capable of leaving you alone, so I brought you here. We all have our drawbacks due to our biology.

When you got rid of the alcohol you had consumed in excess, we showered and I put you into bed. My couch might be comfortable during the day, but it’s unfit to sleep on. That was about ten hours ago, so you haven’t missed that much.”

Having problems with comprehending Q’s explanation, Bond picked up the suppressants again. Confused, he asked, “If you are … an alpha, why are you taking these? They are specifically designed for omegas.”

“You have clearly not done your research on the subject. To put it in simple words: I take them so that I don’t salivate over and am not drawn to any given person in my environment who is ready to … you know what I mean. Just because alphas don’t react as strongly as omegas, doesn’t mean that we don’t react at all. It’s rather a nuisance to be a slave to your biology thinking only of reproduction, when you clearly have better things to do than to copulate.”

 

It was a rather crude explanation, but kind of hit the nail on the head for the both of them. So Bond looked once more at the capsules Q had offered him. He had taken one that suggested that this drug was created specifically for an alpha. It would nevertheless have the desired effect on an omega as well.

It would suppress his desperate need to close the space between Q and him, to kneel down before him, snuggling closer to find a few precious minutes of safety and tranquillity. To kiss his hands in gratitude and badly wish that the alpha would offer him more than just his hands, that he would lower his face to him, so that he could smell the sweet and aromatic breath at his face, and taste the freshly brewed earl grey on his tongue.

It was the easy way out and Q had offered it without asking, just like the coffee and the toast. The problem was, after last night, Bond didn’t know what he wanted any more, the alpha or being free of his biological imperatives. Following through on this line of thought he suddenly asked, “Last night you and I … Did you?”

He couldn’t remember, but that didn’t mean that nothing had happened. He recalled the shower, feeling compliant and relaxed. He knew in the bed he had felt protected and safe. He couldn’t be sure, but with him completely knocked out there was a distinct possibility that Q had taken what his body instinctively might have offered. Not knowing what had happened was worse than the conformation that his quartermaster had taken him. He didn’t hurt so it could not have been bad.

What he didn’t expect was Q reacting to the question as if Bond had just shot him over the breakfast table. First there was shock on his face, than there was disgust and in the end tremendous disappointment. Picking up his cup he replied in a cold tone, “I do not know what kind of experiences you’ve had with alphas in the past. But I don’t take advantage of those under my care.”

After that declaration he left the kitchen, and after a few moments Bond could hear the keystrokes resuming. The typing seemed rather forceful, more like gunshots than the smooth and elegant movements he was used to from his quartermaster. Lowering his head onto his arms James thought about what just had happened and realized that he had practically accused Q of raping him while unconscious. No one – alpha or not – would react kindly to such an accusation.

After finishing his piece of toast he pushed the pills from one side of the plate to the other. He could go now. Actually he should. He should take these god damned capsules and leave. But where would he go? M’s house was not a possibility any more, had not been a suitable choice in the first place. His own flat; cold and empty; held little appeal to him.

The truth was, the only place he had felt remotely comfortable, remotely safe, remotely … where he had felt anything else but pain and desperation for hours, no, days, no, months – honestly since Vesper’s death – had been here. And although Q might have had every opportunity, he had refrained from doing anything but caring for him in a way no one had ever done before. Without any personal gain, just because he felt compelled to help.

Not even Vesper … the beautiful, sweet Vesper, who had looked at him in adoration and wonder, had been there for him in the same self-sacrificing manner Q had shown. James had felt on top of the world with her, willing to give up everything, even his beliefs, to keep that feeling. But it had been an illusion conjured by wishful thinking and it had nearly destroyed them both in the end. So while he was aware of what he should do, he was unable to actually leave.

Helping himself to another cup of coffee, he hesitantly approached the door between kitchen and living room. The angry keystrokes dominated everything, even Q’s breaths. After half a little while Bond made a decision. “I’m sorry. I should not have implied that you might have…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but he had been heard nevertheless, because the typing diminished greatly in force, if not in speed. Slowly approaching the backside of the couch, he concentrated on the unruly dark hair, imagined how it would feel to bury himself in it, lace his fingers through the silk strands, inhale their clean scent. After swallowing heavily, he silently continued, “Thank you …for bringing me here, for letting me stay the night.”

“You will stay here until you feel better.”

Not a suggestion, not an offer, a command and one Bond felt unable to contradict, because his entire being wholeheartedly agreed with it. Unsure what to do next, nodding seemed rather pointless because Q still had to look at him, he noticed that the quartermaster had shifted his position.

Had he dominated the couch before, he now sat pressed to the side, leaving a lot of room for … say another person to sit down comfortably, or lay down beside him.

Taking up the wordless offer, Bond approached the couch from the other side and slid down, sinking into the cushions. Now he knew why Q sat with his legs underneath him, otherwise he would be swallowed whole. Still, Bond revelled in the soft and comfortable sofa because not only was it extremely convenient, it smelled of Q and after last night his body seemed to associate his smell with utter relaxation, safety and protection.

Sinking against the armrest on his side he nearly got up again when Q rose unexpectedly. But he kept still when he realized that his quartermaster simply grabbed a blanket from the chair right next to them, spreading it over James and his own lap. As soon as Q had settled, the typing resumed. This time it was gentle and efficient, fast but not hasty, and Bond felt himself lulled into sleep by it.

 

As soon as Bond had drifted off, Q stopped typing. He needed to double-check his code, and again more after that, because truly, that agent next to him was a tremendous distraction. But a distraction he would not give up for anything in the world. Only when he was sure that Bond was really and truly asleep did the young man rise and allowed himself to touch Bond. Pulling the blanket higher so that his neck wouldn’t get cold, dragging it over his arms so that they wouldn’t freeze.

With tender fingers he caressed the temple and the cheekbones of the sleeping man, fighting down the desire to kneel beside him and cover his face and shoulder with gentle kisses. The suppressants helped with the desire, but never with the emotions, and Q was dead-scared when he realized that there were emotions, deep feelings of longing, of the desire to protect this fierce fighter who slept so trustingly on his couch. That had never happened before. Not even with his sweet little Amy during college.

Most alphas felt the overwhelming urge to protect their omegas, to lock them away and keep them safe. And the very nature of their companions kept them from contradicting that idea. But Bond could never live like that and Q knew it. He was a warrior, trained to fight and to protect, more like a guardian than a treasure.

But for Q that was no contradiction, because Bond was both, protector and priceless jewel at the same time, like a weapon, meant to be polished and used, but never locked away. Looking at this invaluable gem Q couldn’t keep himself from leaning down and brushing the faintest kiss over the temple of the Double-Oh, before resuming his place on the couch picking up his work once more.

 

Only when Bond heard the steady beat of the typing resume for minutes without faltering, did he allow himself to open his eyes again. His fingertips ghosted over his forehead, where he had felt the tender lips of his quartermaster not a moment ago. Confused and scared by his reaction to the gentle, almost loving, caress, he closed his eyes again, willing himself to go back to sleep. No one in his whole life had ever touched him with care and admiration that seemed to come so naturally to Q, and it irritated the hell out of him, that all he wanted to do was give in and allow it, consequences be damned.

 

~ 007 ~

 


	3. A Brave New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living with an alpha is equally easier and more complicated then Bond could have ever imagined.

Bond was woken after several hours – the light that fell through the curtains of the living room showed him that it was early afternoon – by a rather strained voice next to him. However, he didn’t feel uncomfortable or tense, on the contrary. He realized that Q was petting his ankle absent-minded and that simple motion spread a feeling of calm and warmth through his whole body. He mourned the loss of the touch as soon as Q stood up and went into the bedroom, his Laptop in hand, closing the door partially behind him. His speech increased dramatically in volume and aggravation.

 

“No, I do NOT care if that will only partially secure the lower ports. No, will not get a code online that has not been double checked by anyone else. That’s out of the question!”

Approaching the window Q set his computer down on the desk right next to it and connected it to the integrated beamer system. Fancy equipment had always been one of his weaknesses ever since he had been old enough to understand what a computer was and the flat was his playground. Several cameras provided 24/7 surveillance, speakers in various corners plus a Dolby Surround sound system and projectors in the living room as well as the bedroom allowed for presentations of computer screens, movies or the latest football game. Now it showed the firewall of the MI6 mainframe and the last attack it had suffered. Q stepped back to get a better picture.

His hands were crossed in front of his chest and his voice grew louder once again, the sleeping agent forgotten for now in favor of the foolishness of a member of Q-branch.

“Yes, I see what you mean. But there is no reason the get the security system online ahead of schedule if it has not been properly tested!”

“Yes, I see the code …”

Q listened silently for a few moments, before shouting in annoyance, “Of course I know what this means! But there HAD been someone supervising the firewall to fend of the attack, and that’s what’s important!”

 

Bond got up from his position on the couch and approached the bedroom slowly. When he saw the distressed figure of his quartermaster he reacted more on instinct than by conscious choice. Silently he stepped up to Q from behind and placed his hands on the furious man’s shoulders.

What surprised the both of them was that Q didn’t flinch in the slightest due to the sudden contact; instead he relaxed visibly and leaned into the touch a fraction. The quartermaster’s body was still tense, but the angrily crossed arms relaxed gradually and he was able to take a slow, calming breath.

His voice was nearly normal when he spoke again. “Yes, T, I understand that, and I am as worried as you are. But R is in the office for another hour, get him to check the code and if he clears it you can upload the subroutine ahead of schedule. But only AFTER R has looked over it. Am I understood?”

After ending the call Q sighed deeply and took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Bond had yet to move away because he realized that it felt good for the both of them to be so close. Whenever he retreated a little, Q’s body seemed to follow him instinctively. So for now he was content to stay where he was, supporting his quartermaster through the perceived crisis. When the man turned a little Bond could see regret in his eyes and slowly lowered his hands.

“I am sorry, 007. I didn’t mean to wake you. It’s just … sometimes the minions get a little overexcited and then – well, let’s just say it’s not the best decision to leave them unattended.”

“Sounds like dealing with every other agent.”

The dry comment was rewarded with a small but tired smile from his quartermaster before he put his glasses back on. “Yes, I should be used to it by now. Don’t you think?”

After a moment’s hesitation Q continued in an earnest tone, “Thank you for your help.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

The reflexive protest earned Bond an enigmatic smile from his counterpart.

“You have more power than you are aware of, especially when dealing with someone like me.” With that, Q picked up his laptop again and returned to work from on his couch once again.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Bond retreated to the kitchen. He started to riffle through drawers and cupboards, oblivious to the possibility that the noise might be unwelcome. After a few minutes he realized that he had started to make tea for Q, something that seemed to energize and calm down his quartermaster equally. Returning to the couch he simply set down the cup in front of Q, not commenting on it.

Q picked it up instantly, took a sip and continued coding. A small, nearly inaudible sigh of comfort from the quartermaster told the agent that his offer was most appreciated.

Choosing a book from the only shelf in the room that did not contain literature about computers, weaponry or explosives, Bond settled down with “The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy”. He read the foreword, the first page, but when he reached the words >DON’T PANIC< he only stared at the typos, not taking in another word.

He was an Omega, had never had a choice in that matter, biology had decided that for him long ago. Nature drove him into heats, forced him into submission, and devotion to a single being. These were biological imperatives he was helpless against. Omegas were meant to find Alphas or at least partners that were protective and dominant by nature. Yet his parents’ violent death had proven that there wasn't anyone to protect and care for him and that safety was an illusion. Waiting for someone to shelter him had been in vain.

Therefore he had decided that he didn’t want to be a submissive person and had fought against his biology ever since. He had succeeded! More often than not had he been able to suppress his natural instincts. As a result he had climbed the ranks both in the Navy and at MI6. He was one of the most dangerous people on this planet. Still the desire to submit and sink to his knees in front of a dominant was still there, no matter how hard he fought it.

Today his instincts had persuaded him that the alpha nearby had needed a counterpart because he was so agitated that he had lost his composure. Yet with Q it had not felt like submission, like giving himself up for the wellbeing of another person. It had felt like giving much needed support, something the quartermaster had offered in the first place so Bond had not thought twice about it. The same was true for the tea he had served. The notion had been supportive, not servile and Q had accepted it idly, not making a big deal out of it, just like Bond had accepted the coffee that had been provided by Q that morning.

Q. It was all about him. The young quartermaster being an alpha came as a surprise because he didn’t match the cliché in the slightest. He was not headstrong, overbearing and dominant. Well he could be when the situation called for it, but all in all Q was a rather contained person who only acted when the situation called for it. Being a branch leader obviously had given him the chance to step out of the old Q’s shadow and he had exceled himself ever since. Especially with the Silva-situation, another incident of giving support without thinking twice about it. Even behind the backs of his superiors.

Truth to be told, Bond hadn’t paid much attention to alphas before. He had always assumed that M had been one, but that suspicion had never been confirmed, not even during her last breath, and now … now it didn’t matter anyway because she was gone. He felt the void in his chest open up again when thinking about the former leader of MI6. Bond struggled to breath, clenching the book tightly between his shaking fingers. He wanted to rise, perhaps to get a remote chance to keep his dignity and fall apart somewhere private.

But suddenly, he felt slender fingers on his lower leg, massaging it lightly, easing his struggles for breath, spreading calm through his body. A little bit, really only a tiny bit, but it was enough to stay there on the couch, to give up the desire to flee and hide in a dark hole somewhere, abandoned and alone.

He didn’t want to look up, to meet the worried and concerned eyes of his quartermaster, forcing him to face one of his agents coming apart. But after a rather vicious shiver his body took the decision out of his hands when his head whipped around when reaching for it, just to find Q concentrating on his laptop, ignoring Bond for the most part. Only the strong fingers of the quartermaster, under the blanket that once more covered them both, served as a hidden lifeline that kept the agent from drowning in his sorrow.

 

~ 007 ~

 

“Would you prefer Italian or Chinese for dinner?”

The tremors head eased only moments ago, but his host’s voice was level when he looked at his guest for the first time since the encounter in the bedroom. With a noncommittal shrug Bond rose from the couch, carefully placing the book on the coffee table and retreated into the bathroom. Looking at himself in the mirror, judging his bloodshot and tired eyes, the lines on his face that spoke about his age more clearly than they had a week ago, Bond tried to figure out what he was doing here.

Wrong! He knew quite well, he just wasn’t willing to admit to it. What he really could not understand was why Q was offering his support so easily. He was there, a silent presence not only in the flat but also in the back of Bond’s mind, like a fixed point the agent could revolve around. Something to ground him and kept him from being washed away into the void of his own solitude.

He detested that feeling. Detested being so needy. Detested his very nature. He should take the goddamned pills he had stored in his pocket and just leave. But he couldn’t bring himself to do just that. The mere thought of leaving this flat, leaving Q, left him suffocating and he hated himself even more for that. He heard the quartermaster talking to someone once more, his words were calmer now, but still had an edge. When the doorbell chimed he re-emerged from the bathroom forcing himself to confront the world.

When noticing Bond Q whispered, covering the small microphone he had been speaking into only moments before, “Please get the takeout. There is money in the drawer beside the door. Set the table. I will be with you in a minute.” And then continued his conversation with the same minion he had spoken to only a few hours ago, checking data on his laptop.

“I can bloody well pay for dinner myself.” That murmured comment was only met with an amused smile and two raised eyebrows before the quartermaster resumed his conversation.

The agent opened the door and when he started to go through his jacket he realized, that not only had it been put on a hanger in the wardrobe – something he had been far too drunk to do himself – but that there was no money in his wallet. With an exasperated sigh he opened the aforementioned drawer and paid the delivery guy, retreating to the kitchen with his hands full of take-away. He had imagined a very different scenario for his first dinner with Q.

First of all, there would be a proper invitation. Then there would be a more suitable wardrobe than sweatpants and undersized t-shirts and finally – for all that was sacred – he would pay for the goddamned food. That was how it should be!

Only when he finished distributing the meal on two plates, neatly arranged with silverware and napkins, did he realize that the scenario he had just angrily painted was something he truly desired. He would have liked to ask Q to dinner.

Apart from seeming to be exactly what his nature called for, the man was pleasant, intelligent and good company in general. But now, after everything that had happened, there was no way Q would accept such an invitation, at least not on equal terms. He knew about his designation, so from now every encounter on would be coloured by that knowledge. There was an unexplainable sadness in James due to that thought. But he pushed it down rather forcefully and served dinner.

When Q suggested a movie, Bond gave another shrug, yet when “Mission Impossible” started, the blazing fuse igniting the side of Q’s living room wall, he couldn’t keep himself from laughing. For the first part of the movie, Bond pointed out each and every gear that would be oh so tremendously useful during fieldwork and complimented the sheer number of explosions that took place.

Bantering over the equipment, pointing out that quality was far more important than quantity; Q finally huffed and sank back into the couch pouting, admitting defeat. It took him no more than ten minutes to fall asleep.

Bond was well aware of the lean body that had started to slide down on his shoulder, but refused to do anything about it. Because now that he was satisfied by the food, entertained by the movie and his hangover was gone, he was far too comfortable to change anything about his current position.

When the film had ended, he looked upon his quartermaster. The man looked even younger in sleep than he did when he was awake, spots notwithstanding. Especially now, when he was relaxed and the rather superficial aura of supremacy expected from a branch-leader was gone.

For the first time James could see the real Q, the man behind the position. Someone who was completely at ease in his these surroundings, although the sheer lack of visible technology made it strange to think this flat more natural for Q than the main control room of his branch. Carefully picking up the young man Bond had every intention to tuck him into bed. To let him sleep off the grave lines of exhaustion that had crept onto his face. But just as he lifted him, Q stirred and tensed in his arms, fighting to wake up.

“It’s okay Q, it’s just me. Everything is all right, go back to sleep.” Soft words, whispered into the quartermaster’s ears had the desired effect. Completely trusting that his agent would do no harm, the young man drifted off again and allowed Bond to manipulate him until he lay between his sheets, clad only in his pants. After briefly cleaning up the living room, Bond followed him into bed, only to find himself encircled by two slender arms a mere minute after he had lain down to rest.

Maybe omegas were not the only ones that gravitated towards their counterparts. Maybe the feeling was mutual. A bond was a connection of absolute trust, absolute understanding because it intertwined two souls. Most of the time however, one or both partners was miserable in a bond, just like in any other relationship. The alpha was demanding and the omega unable to stand up for himself.

In James’s mind, bonds were more like chains than security nets and he had kept himself from being entangled in any in his life. Commitment was good, being forced into it was unacceptable. That’s why he had kept himself separated from dominants for the most part of his life. Why he took the suppressants that made the physical consequences of his designation bearable. But Q had painted a completely different picture today.

“You have more power than you are aware of, especially over someone like me.”

The words still ghosted through his mind and he thought that today he got a glimpse of what they could mean.

True – Q’s body wound around his was strong and unyielding but he did not feel chained; he felt safe in his quartermaster’s arms, even if he would never freely admit that as long as the young man was awake.

True – he felt calmed down by the smallest of touches; not oppressed but grounded by them.

True – when he heard and felt Q’s agitation today his body reacted on instinct to ease the alpha’s stress. A mere touch had worked wonders, just like it had helped James a little while later. Bond had given Q the necessary calm to deal with an important situation level-headedly and reasonably.

True – he felt somehow taken aback by the necessity to be fed and taken care of, but Q didn’t gloat about it. He didn’t elevate himself into a place of superiority, and he didn’t shove Bond down into submission where he would be forced to gratefully accept every scrap that fell off Q’s table and afterwards making up for it with servitude.

Although everything the man did was well calculated, every touch, every gesture, even the bloody movie he had chosen for Bond’s entertainment was calculated; his choices were all meant to put Bond at ease, to make him feel welcome and at home.

Alphas and omegas were like two sides of the same coin, at least in theory, approaching life from a different perspective, but with the same goal in mind.

But if that was true, why did so many relationships end in despair for the omega? Why were too many of them miserable, bound to a house because the alpha refused to let them work? Chained to a surrounding they found no happiness in because it was ‘safer’ for them? How could someone, who was meant to rule and protect by nature, care so little for the wellbeing of someone whom he was meant to protect? How could there ever be an equilibrium that allowed both partners to thrive and flourish?

Tired of the countless, pointless questions that roamed his mind, Bond finally gave in around midnight, closing his eyes and letting the soft breathing of his quartermaster lull him to sleep.

 

~ 007 ~

 

“I think I will return to my apartment today.” Bond entered the kitchen the next morning just in time to see Q swallowing one of his suppressants with a mouthful of tea while flipping through the morning paper.

Obviously engrossed in an article over a new network satellite that was about to be shot into the atmosphere, Q opened a drawer and rummaged through it. After tearing his eyes away from the paper he was finally able to retrieve what he was searching for, and Bond caught a small key that was thrown in his direction.

With a brief glance up Q explained, “The security code is 864203. You have twenty seconds to enter it, after you have unlocked the door. I will call you after I finished work so you can decide where you want to go for dinner.” With a brief smile he left behind a completely bewildered, picked up his bag and left for work.

A small chiming sound raised him from his stupor and Bond picked up the cup of coffee Q had just prepared for him. Sitting down on the small breakfast table Bond looked at the inconspicuous key his quartermaster had just given him. He didn’t know if he really wanted to leave. He just wanted to end his confusion. Honestly, he had hoped for an argument, where he could ask Q why he wanted him here. Why he helped him and seemingly desired nothing in return. People were cruel and mean and selfish, not helpful, kind and selfless, not in the book of the Double-Oh.

Yet Q embodied all these admirable qualities and although the agent had gotten a glimpse of these character traits when the quartermaster equipped him for a mission or during handling, he had never been confronted with them on a personal level, when there was nothing to be gained.

Q on the other hand, didn’t seem to have the slightest doubt about their situation. Bond needed help, so he was there to help. He had opened his home, even his bedroom to him without any advances towards the other man. Bond didn’t even know if Q swung that way. If he did, he showed remarkable restrain. For a moment, the man asked himself if his irritation was because he was not used to being undesirable, or because he was relieved about the lack of advances from Q but still didn’t trust him.

No matter the reasons, Q had made clear that he expected the agent to be there upon his return, just like he had decided yesterday. He hadn’t even asked Bond’s opinion on that matter, and a part of him wanted to stay away, just because he didn’t like his decisions being made for him.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Q took a deep breath as soon as he left his flat. The proximity of 007 was more straining than he had thought and although the medication did its job, it still was hard for the alpha to stay as far away from the omega as possible. Only allowing himself casual touches he knew the other man needed, when all he wanted to do was hug and comfort him and crowd him from all sides, just so that he knew he was safe, appreciated and protected no matter what.

During his tube-ride to headquarters he reminded himself that he would need another vial of suppressants, because providing Bond with some, and taking one in the morning as well as in the evening, had diminished his stock ahead of time.

However, as soon as he entered Q-branch all thoughts about his personal life were forgotten. His minions swarmed him as soon as he entered and for the next six hours he was confronted with requests from various agents, glitches in their new security system and a rather stern request from the Chief of Staff to join him for lunch.

When he made it to the cafeteria it was almost three in the afternoon. Q didn’t want to go into a lot of details about his houseguest and Tanner seemed reluctant to ask. But they agreed that 007 needed a break after everything that had happened. Mallory was still occupied with trouble-shooting after the disastrous incident with Silva and was grateful for every crisis that could be averted. It was nearly eight o’clock when Q finally called it a day.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Bond had left the flat not long after breakfast. The key had found its way into his cleaned and pressed trousers, which he discovered on a hanger in Q’s wardrobe. So wearing the same clothes but being much better off than two days ago, Bond left the house and looked around. Until now he didn’t have a bloody clue where Q lived. It was not the best part of town, but definitely not the worst, so it was no problem for him to catch a taxi to a small supermarket around the corner from his own flat. Walking home a few minutes later, he inhaled the crisp air of central London.

He should buy some food. He should turn up the heating so that this bloody flat wasn’t leaching all warmth out of his body. And then he should pour himself a stiff drink, turn on some music and lay down on his own couch instead that of his quartermaster.

Yet Bond couldn’t make himself do any of it.

He stood in the main room of his studio apartment and looked around, unable to go through with his plan. Unable to do anything but forcefully shove down the memories of Q’s worn but incredibly plush couch, of Q’s small kitchen that smelled of earl grey and toast, of Q’s bedroom with the fleecy bedclothes that didn’t feel luxurious in the slightest, but incredibly warm and soft on the skin.

After nearly an hour he was aware that he was fighting a lost battle. The more he tried to suppress the comfortable memories, the more he longed for them, and when he finally gave in it took him not more than fifteen minutes to pack up everything he needed lock the door behind himself.

On his way back to his quartermaster’s flat he stopped at a cash-machine so that he would not be forced to repeat the embarrassing incident with the delivery boy. Although Q hadn’t said a single word about it, Bond was well aware that he couldn’t expect the young man to support him 24/7. On impulse he entered a small supermarket and bought tea, toast and a microwave-meal for lunch.

Only when he entered the flat again, typing in the prime number to disable the alarm, did he feel the tension of the journey seep out of him. Here, in the middle of Q’s apartment, surrounded with the things that belonged to his quartermaster, had been touched by him, used by him, smelled like him, the agent able to finally relax again. Half angry and half relieved by the reaction, Bond prepared himself a lunch, before settling back onto the couch, picking up the novel he had chosen yesterday.

An annoying beeping snatched him out of his reading. Looking around he saw a little black box, blinking excitedly on the coffee table. When he touched the irritating thing a projection of Q-branch filled the wall in front of him.

Q’s calm voice filled the room through unseen speakers: “I know it’s a little late, but I thought you might like to go out for dinner. There is a small book-café just around the corner and they make the most amazing pastries. Would you like to meet me there in about an hour?”

Confused by Q’s call to a flat that could very well be empty, Bond asked:

“How did you know I was still here?”

The look on Q’s face was one of mild annoyance and after a few swipes of his fingers various views of the flat dominated the wall.

Bond counted six cameras all together. One showed the hallway in front of the door, one the rear tract of the building, one the hallway just inside the door and one in each room; only the camera in the bedroom faced away from the bed so that it only had a view of the windows and the desk in the corner. Rather amused Bond commented:

“Really afraid of break-ins are you?”

“The security system is standard issue for every branch-leader. Did you think your apartment is not monitored?”

Honestly Bond had never thought about it. He was so used to being on display that it really didn’t matter to him one way or the other. He almost never brought someone home with him. His flat was a place to sleep or to drink, nothing more. Than an unpleasant thought crossed his mind and he asked rather irritated:

“You watched me when I was in my apartment.”

“Of course I did.”

“You are spying on me!” Half question and half accusation, but annoying each way, Bond glared at the quartermaster. No matter what had happened, he was not a child that needed supervision so that he would not harm himself on his trip. True, after M’s death he had been close to drinking himself into stupor but things were different now!

Q’s voice was level but earnest as he admitted: “I am worried about you.”

The images of the flat were gone again and Bond could see the calm and content face of the quartermaster, dominating the projection. There was no remorse in his eyes, only quiet determination. Q allowed the agent to draw his own conclusions from what he saw there.

After a few minutes of silence Bond finally answered: “Fine, one hour.”

“See you there. I will text you the address.”

After a moment, Bond found his phone connected to a charger in the hallway. Picking it up and checking the address, he realized that it was only a five-minute walk so he would have enough time to finish his current chapter and then change for dinner with Q.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Q was already sitting in a comfortable chair at the back of the small café. The scenery reminded Bond more of a gentlemen’s club than a coffee shop. Small sofas and armchairs with plush green or red padding were everywhere. The lights were dim with small lamps that allowed a reader to enjoy his novel without straining his eyes. The place smelled of freshly brewed coffee and sweet and spicy pastries, and there was soft music in the background. The quartermaster had chosen a small table with a stuffed couch and an armchair facing it right next to the backdoor.

Bond asked himself for a moment if that had been the only free table at that time – the shop seemed rather crowded – or if it had been a tactical decision.

Waving his hand a little, Q gifted him with the most bedazzling smile and gestured the agent to get them something to drink. Unsure what Q would prefer in the evening, Bond decided on the usual for him and dared to try something that was called “Arabian nights in a cup” himself. When he stepped up to the table and set the cups down, he realized that the waiter, who followed him with the pastries, was a rather unpleasant man.

He could hear him addressing Q in a snobby and nasal voice, “So you have finally found a pet for yourself. You must be really desperate if you settled for someone so old. Was no one of your age available, geek?”

Bond tensed instinctively, but Q just lazily glanced at the mischief-maker and replied in a rather bored voice, “Just because you can’t keep anyone interested in you for more than ten days does not mean that we all are so desperate for company.”

The man’s voice was pure venom when he retorted, “You are just jealous that I can attract someone even remotely my own age, freak. I don’t where you got this one but …”

“Sit down James.” Q’s voice was laced with steel.

Bond, still being off the suppressants, he had merely carried them around as a last resort, followed the command on instinct.

“Marco, I advise you to go back to work now because neither am I interested in your opinion, nor will I hold him back a second time if you say another word.”

Neither of them knew if it was Q’s still calm but rather insistent voice or Bond’s murderous glare, but the waiter threw two plates full of various pastries on the table and left in a hurry. When Q turned his head to look at Bond, he faced the same glare the waiter had just received.

With a silent but not less furious voice, Bond declared, “I don’t need you to protect me in public. I am very able to stand up for myself.”

Picking up his cup Q explained nonchalantly, “I was not protecting you but him. No matter if he is an idiot, he doesn’t deserve to have his nose broken over this.”

When Bond looked at him rather stunned Q asked confusedly, “And since when are you so bothered by what other people think about you?”

“I was not angry about what he said about me.”

Now it was Q’s turn to look dumbfounded, but after a few seconds the realization finally hit home, a small smile crept over his lips and he lowered his head, cheeks slightly aflame. After a moment of hiding behind his cup he looked up again and pushed one of the plates towards Bond and explained the various pastries that sat there.

Rather bemused by his quartermasters reaction the agent decided to enjoy his dinner.

 

~ 007 ~

 


	4. Nature taking its course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is only so much one can overcome with suppressants.

Q’s sleep-clouded mind revelled in the sensation that filled all of his senses. A willing, pliant and deliciously smelling body in his arms felt dazzling because it was soft and hard at the same time in all at the right places. He nearly started to purr when pulling said body to his chest, basking in the proximity. It took him a full minute to realize, that he was getting worked up over someone who had made it very clear that he was not interested. Not wanting to take advantage of someone under his care Q retreated in shock when that knowledge emerged from the depths of his mind.

Untangling himself from the man who shared his bed in good faith, he hastily retreated into the kitchen, rummaging through his cupboards in a desperate attempt to find one last suppressant that would calm down his burning body. But having consumed twice his usual amount during the last few days, as well as supplying Bond with two, Q was very well aware that there were none left.

He needed a shower! Yes, a cold shower would help. Definitely! Ice cubes would work best, judging by the furnace that seemed to be burning in his groin.

 

Q’s rushed retreat woke Bond, who was already used to sleeping with the other man wrapped around him. The agent shot up in alarm, expecting an intruder in the flat. He started to check first the bedroom, then the living room, the kitchen and finally the hallway. When he heard the shower starting he entered the bathroom, worrying about his host.

What he didn’t expect was the hard and commanding voice that ordered as soon as he entered, “Get out!”

Grabbing for the door handle, Bond suddenly felt a wave of hormones washing over him. His body reacted immediately, getting painfully hard at the promise of an alpha ready to take him. Torn between the two desires – to obey the discharge and to offer himself as it was meant to be as an Omega – he felt Q’s voice like a slap when it ordered once more, “BOND! GET OUT!”

Only then did the agent realize that the bathroom was not filled by warm mist as it was expected. Quite the contrary, a cold spray seemed to accompany the pheromones Q’s body produced in abandon.

When the agent took in the picture of his quartermaster, who was currently facing away from him, he realized that the lithe man was shaking all over, hands clutched the handle of the showerhead so hard, that his knuckles were white. Desire poured off of him in waves, and it seemed to take every ounce of willpower the young man possessed, to stay right where he was and not lunge for Bond.

Bond didn’t know if it was biology, gratitude, or simple desire that made him approach the shower. With a voice laced with want, he asked, “Why?”

He was not prepared for the picture Q made when he whipped around to face him.

The young man’s wet hair flew like a mane, his eyes were blown wide, dominated by black pupils and the look in them was and every bit as predatory as one would expect from an alpha. His body gravitated towards the omega and only the hand on the handle seemed to hold him back from grabbing the man in front of him.

His voice was a rather fearsome snarl as he growled, “Because if you don’t leave this instant, I will do exactly what you accused me of, two days ago!”

Although it was a threat, Bond didn’t feel intimidated by it. His body wanted this. HE wanted this! So he closed the distance between them, and simply said, “Then do it!”

With a ferocious growl, Q let go of the handle and grabbed Bond behind the neck. Looking into his eyes for a mere heartbeat, frozen in time and space, he finally yanked the agent towards him and crushed their lips with enough force to knock their teeth together. Not caring the slightest any more if his advances were welcome or not, Q demanded entrance into the agent’s mouth, a demand that was met without hesitation.

Bond felt himself melt against the strong form of the alpha before him. His last conscious thought was to turn up the heat in the shower so that they would not be a quivering, freezing mess at the end of this encounter. Then, all he could do was to feel. Feel and revel in an attack that overwhelmed all of his senses.

Q dragged him closer, crushed him to the shower wall, brought their bodies together, and when their cocks touched for the first time: it was pure bliss for both of them.

Bond pressed against him, dragged him closer and presented his neck submissively while rubbing his pelvis against the man in front of him.

That gesture seemed to pacify Q somehow because the rather painful kisses left his mouth and started trail over the agent’s chin to the willingly presented neck. Licking, nibbling and finally biting into the sensitive flesh where neck met shoulder, he snarled a little when Bond tried to worm his hand between their bodies.

When the alpha grumbled a warning, Bond instantly withdrew his fingers clawing at the tiles of the shower stall to find some stability. Yet he found his hand replaced by Q’s fingers, inclosing both of their shafts with his slender digits. The feeling was glorious, all-encompassing and mind-blowing. And after having his hormones running havoc in his body, it took Bond only a few strokes to find completion and spilling his seed all over their lower bellies.

This seemed to trigger Q’s own orgasm and after only two additional strokes he followed Bond over the edge. But instead of retreating, Q pressed into the agent for a mere moment, mixing their seed and spreading it over both of them, before he stepped back and lowered himself to his knees. Licking and nibbling, he followed the faint trail of hair that covered Bond’s torso until he was face to face with Bond’s now half-hard cock.

The blowjob that followed had nothing sensual or tender. It was pure hunger and although it was nearly too much, James couldn’t help himself but sink his fingers in the wet curls in front of him, pushing into the ravenous mouth that seemed so intent on swallowing him whole. When the sensation ceased before he could find completion, Bond couldn’t help but whimper desperately, pushing his hips out to find the tiny amount of friction that would allow him to come. But obviously Q had other plans for him.

The younger man stood up, and it was his turn to entangle his slender fingers into the agent’s hair with a predatory smile, pushing his head back so that Bond was forced to present his neckline and to the alpha. He made good use of it. Q dragged his teeth over the sensitive skin strongly enough to bruise, biting down hard to leave a mark but not to do any real damage. After thoroughly enjoying the compliant and aroused body in front of him – he had occasionally brushed over James cock, oh so slightly to keep him interested – did he order in a deep, passionate voice, “Turn around.”

Unable to resist, James complied only to find himself caged by the lean body of his quartermaster. His breath hitched when he felt the erect shaft of his quartermaster teasing his needy hole. The blowjob along with Q’s teasing touches had left him burning for the alpha. His body was more than ready to be taken, his omega biology preparing him for immediate intercourse, lubricating the teasing cock and easing the potential entry, but Q seemed to be content to rub himself against the strong man.

It was Bond’s desperate voice that filled the shower as he pleaded throatily, “Fuck me … goddammit, Q, fuck me already!”

As if he had only waited for this invitation, Q shoved his cock into his agent in one swift motion.

Bond was pressed against the wall, completely crowded by Q’s demanding body. Although their union had not hurt him, he felt unpleasantly full now. He needed a moment to catch his breath and Q fortunately allowed him to adjust, holding absolutely still behind him. But after a few moments the sensations of merely being filled was not nearly enough. He shoved forcefully back against the other man, only to be pushed forward by an equally strong trust. Desperately grabbing for something to hold on to, Bond laced his fingers with those of the alpha that were holding onto his hips so strongly that there surely would be bruises later.

Not that he cared right now. He actually basked in the strength of the man behind his back, meeting his forceful motions with vigour, and when Q finally hit the right spot, all he could do was hold on and enjoy a ride that sent white sparks of pleasure through his entire body.

Moaning, he reached for his cock. He was nearly delirious with desire, but unable to come from their union alone. When he felt his hand slapped away harshly, he couldn’t help himself but whimper desperately, bracing his hands on the wet wall in front of him. He needed more, just a little bit more, one touch, any kind of stimulation to reach his peak. When the thrusts increased in urgency and strength, felt his cock enveloped by strong fingers. Each push created the much needed friction, and when he felt Q coming inside of him, filling him with his seed, he finally found release, splashing the wall in front of him again and again and again until he was completely drained.

It took him a moment to realize that he had been released from the cage of limbs that had locked him in the corner of the shower. When he turned around with a satisfied grin, he met the frantic eyes of his quartermaster. Stammered words registered in his brain but right now he simply hadn’t the capacity to understand them, his body was far too satisfied to think.

“Oh my god…I…James…I’m so…I am so sorry…”

He heard rumbling and the hasty retreat of his host, and when Bond finally was able to move again and went after Q, he was alone in the flat. Shivering and confused by what had just happened, he returned to the bathroom to shower and clear his mind.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Q’s mind was filled with loathing and self-hatred during his whole trip to work. It was really hard to keep that up, when his body rejoiced at the memories of his and Bond’s activities.

His agent had smelled so alluring, tasted so delicious, and the feeling of his strong body, compliant and willing under his hands had been intoxicating.

But no matter how much Bond had trusted him; Q had proven to be like any other alpha the man detested so much. He had been driven solely by his needs, unable to control them. He had known that he had been out of suppressants. Having taken two each day, he was bound to run out of them sooner rather then later.

So now his first stop in headquarters was the infirmary. His mere presence overwhelmed the small examination room, and as soon as the doctor approached him, it drove the man back a little. His request was as forceful as his presence when he demanded, “I need another vial of suppressants. Now!”

Clearly confused by the request the doctor objected, “But you are due your next dose at the beginning of the next week.”

Furious because of the contradiction, MI6’s quartermaster bellowed, “I don’t care when I am ‘due’. You are bound to give them to me when I demand it. I am a registered alpha, and when I wish to take suppressants you have to supply me!”

Rather taken aback by the unusually harsh statement the doctor apologized, “But they are not ready yet. Your medication is matched to your DNA. I simply don’t have it ready now.” The angry glare of the head of Q-branch made him add hastily, “But if you would give me blood, I will see that you have them within the next 30 hours.”

One day… one whole day and a few hours more. This was a nightmare! How would he ever be able to face Bond again? How would he be able to deal with his work when he only thought with his cock?

Taking a deep breath and accessing the situation logically, Q realized that the desire that had overwhelmed him this morning had greatly diminished. Bond’s pliant body had satisfied him better than the drugs ever had. It was still present, but possible to ignore. Q castigated himself for allowing it to come so far. He should have gone out more, should have found somebody to satisfy his needs. Although, after everything that had transpired this morning, the mere thought of touching anybody but Bond made his stomach turn.

With a tired nod he finally sank onto the padded bed in the middle of the room. Rolling up his sleeves he presented the doctor with his arm and offered, “Please … take what you need. I apologize for shouting at you.”

Looking at the usually so level-headed leader of Q-branch, the doctor wordlessly picked up the necessary vials, filled them with Q’s blood and sent him on his way.

 

~ 007 ~

 

That evening Q couldn’t bring himself to return to his flat. The thought of it being empty was too hard to bear, not when his body longed so desperately for the omega who had lived with him for the last few days. He desired to feel Bond under him again, in the shower, on the sofa, in his bed. His brilliant mind provided him with countless scenarios within his own walls, and the thought of Bond not being there was so unbearable for Q that he didn’t even activate his surveillance system to confirm his suspicion.

Worse even, if the agent WAS still there, what should he say? How could he explain and apologize for his horrendous slip of self-restraint? Bond had trusted him, had slept beside him, and at the first given opportunity Q had subdued him without a second thought. The agent surely hated him for it, should because Bond had made clear in abundance what he thought about alphas who gave no thoughts whatsoever to their omegas wishes.

 

~ 007 ~

 

After lunch on the second day Bond had had enough. He was well aware that Q hadn’t returned to his own flat after their encounter in the shower. An encounter Bond didn’t regret in the slightest. He had known what he had gotten himself into when he had approached the alpha.

The truth was, despite the bruises all over his body and a rather impressive hickey on his throat, he had enjoyed himself. Not only had the sex been mind-blowing, but Q had proven to be a considerate lover. Every piece of knowledge Bond possessed about interaction between alphas and omegas told him that the dominant partner usually didn’t care if the submissive enjoyed their interaction. It was supposed to be that way because nature was taking its course: Alphas took, Omegas gave in and both were supposed to be happy with it.

Q on the other hand had been attentive. He had given James a fair warning. His motions had been strong but never cruel, overwhelming but not harming. He had made sure that Bond benefited from their intercourse even though he had demanded more from his body than the agent was used to, at least in certain areas; he usually didn’t bottom for anybody.

Q had been careful, given Bond time to adjust so that he wouldn’t cause unnecessary pain. All in all a rather pleasant experience, one he wouldn’t mind repeating in the future. And, most importantly, an experience Q surely chastised himself for, judging by his reluctance to return last night.

When Bond entered headquarters in the afternoon, he went right to Q-branch, without reporting to Tanner in the first place. As far as he knew, he was still on leave and quite honestly, he didn’t care at the moment. All of his thoughts were occupied by a certain alpha, finding him had top priority.

Upon entering the main control room of Q-branch Bond instantly felt the tense atmosphere. His alpha’s pheromones – Q’s, he corrected himself mentally – saturated the air even though the young man was nowhere to be seen.

After checking his office and looking into various labs, Bond finally found the quartermaster at the shooting range of Q-branch with various rifles at hand, discussing trajectory and weight with one of his minions.

Allowing himself to observe for a moment, Bond realized that Q was standing taller than usual. Despite being a few centimetres smaller than the scientist that he was talking to, he seemed to tower over the other man, and his colleague reacted accordingly, lowering his eyes and concentrating on the equipment rather than on the branch-leader.

Nevertheless, Q’s was calm and professional as he commented on the weapon before shooting it three times in quick succession.

It was then that Bond realized Q was a fairly good shot. Every bullet hit the target, penetrating it, perforating it or simply pushing it back, depending on the angle and the area of impact. But still, Q was stressed out and nervous underneath all this composure, Bond could feel it. The agent had no intention of letting his quartermaster rub himself raw over what had happened.

“Do you want the opinion of a professional?” His voice was cool and composed as if the answer truly didn’t matter to him.

While the scientist looked rather surprised, Q just tensed a little more.

Without waiting for an invitation, Bond came closer to them and slowly took the weapon from the quartermaster’s hand.

He smelled delicious and a part of Bond wished that he could bury himself in that smell, sink to his knees in front of him and pull the young man close, rubbing himself against his stomach like a content kitten, maybe even have his hair stroke by the alpha. But this was meant to be a personal statement, so he lingered for a moment, just long enough for Q to meet his eyes, before taking up the gun, taking aim.

The weapon was horrible, out of balance and far too small for him. Remembering the rifles he had been equipped with, the agent suddenly understood how much time Q-branch put into their field equipment, personalizing it to each user. Every weapon was a perfect match for the agent that would handle it, both in function as in weight and size. With newfound respect, he returned the weapon and gave his opinion in a calm and professional manner.

They repeated the process with two more rifles, a grenade launcher – that seemed to be exactly his size – and a handgun. After they had returned the weapons to the laboratory, Q decided to call it a day and within five minutes the lab, as well as the control room, was empty. Only two minions remained behind. One was handling 005 in Egypt, and the other one seemed to be captivated by a piece of code Bond couldn’t comprehend in the slightest.

They retreated into Q’s office, and the Double-Oh closed the door behind them.

As soon as Q heard the click of the lock, he turned around facing his houseguest with remorse. The young man’s voice was sad but earnest as he started, “Bond, I …”

Instantly Bond cut him short with a clipped, “Don’t, Q.”

Calm and experienced eyes met young ones, which were filled with so much self-loathing and regret that it pained the agent. His desire to ease the alpha’s suffering was overwhelming so he stepped up to him and laid his hand on the narrow shoulder. In a calm and serious tone he stated, “Don’t be sorry, Q because I am not.”

“But what I did ... I was exactly like all the others ...” Q’s statement was helpless and desperate, so Bond couldn’t help but stop him again.

Shaking his head rather forcefully and squeezing Q’s shoulder the agent said, “No, you were not. Not in the slightest. You warned me. You gave me ample time to retreat. Q, I knew what was about to happen, and I wanted it! Don’t hate yourself over this because I don’t.”

He closed the last distance and buried his face in the younger man’s neck, finally allowing himself to revel in the delicious scent.

After a moment’s hesitation, Q’s arms surrounded him, holding onto his neck and encircling his waist, dragging him closer.

For a few minutes the two men only basked in each other’s proximity before Bond, in a nearly superhuman effort, pulled back and begged, “Let’s go home.”

He watched Q save his work, power down his computer and pick up a small vial from his desk. The young man hesitated for a second, but after a brief glance in Bond’s direction, slipped the medication into his bag without breaking the seal.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Their lovemaking that night was slow and luscious. Q took his time to discover every part of Bond’s body, and the agent savoured the unhurried attention. When his quartermaster finally closed his lips around his shaft, it took every ounce of Bond’s willpower not to shoot his load then and there. What followed was worth the restrain.

Q teased and nipped, licked and nibbled. For an extended amount of time enjoying his agent’s reactions in the most attentive ways, learned what the man tolerated and what he strived on.

Bond was covered in sweat and was willing to beg; to plead, to do anything Q desired just to be allowed release.

And when Q finally swallowed him whole, he nearly lifted both of them off the mattress as his body strained with the thunderous orgasm that rolled through him.

Although he would deny it until his dying day, he was not sure whether or not he actually lost consciousness for a few moments after that mind-shattering experience. The next thing he knew was that he lay in the strong arms of his lover, being caressed and petted wherever Q could reach him.

When Bond tried to reciprocate, Q just lazily shook his head, and pulled the agent back onto his chest.

Too tired and far too content to question his alpha, Bond allowed himself to be covered by a soft blanket, and the last thing he felt was the faintest kiss on his forehead before he drifted off to sleep.

 

~ 007 ~

 


	5. Need more Data

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more facts on alpha-omega-dynamics and how a glimpse of how an omega reacts to the emotions of his alpha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter just in time for Christmas day and all thanks to my brilliant betareader Amanda who took it upon herself to make this story better.  
> A very, merry Christmas to all of you, and shouldn't we hear each other before New Years eve: A Happy New Year!

The next morning Bond found Q in the kitchen, twisting the phial of his suppressants between his fingers, eyeing it thoughtfully.

“Why aren’t you taking one?”

“Because I feel contented.”

Bond’s raised eyebrow and waited.

Q eventually looked up, placing the phial on the table between them. “After yesterday, especially after last night, I don’t feel the urge as strongly as I normally do. I am contented, satisfied even after what happened. But I do not know if this will last all day.”

“Have you never had a lover?”

Q laughed in surprise.

What a stupid question! Bond felt like slapping himself, instead he found himself face to face with the grave eyes of the alpha. The words he answered with were serious, earnest and held a gravity that could not be explained when he replied, “Never one like you.”

“What’s so special about me then? There are hundreds of people like me out there. You most likely come across dozens of them on your way to work.”

And there it was again, the small, enigmatic smile that changed Q’s youthful appearance into the one of a wise old man. His voice was soft as he suggested, “Maybe you should do some research.” He scribbled a few characters on a piece of paper, handing it to the agent. “This is the current password for the laptop in the living room. Have a nice day James.”

Not only had they evolved to a first name basis, when Q left the kitchen, he stopped briefly beside Bond’s chair to lean down for a toe-curling kiss. Both were a little out of breath, and Q’s eyes were sparkling when he pecked the agent on the forehead one last time before he left.

Acknowledging that Q’s suggestion was a rather clever one, Bond poured himself a cup of coffee and went into the living room in search of the aforementioned computer. While he wore his own jeans by now, he still preferred the shirts Q provided him instead of his own. It felt too good to have at least one item of clothing that came from his host. So he had conveniently forgotten to pack his own t-shirts.

Starting his research he was instantly hit with numbers he very much doubted to be true:

152,751 registered Alphas

5'2 million registered Betas

93,752 registered Omegas

About 0'28% of the population was designated alphas. Around 9'6% were betas and only 0'17% of all inhabitants of England, less than 100,000 people were omegas. That meant that there was not even one omega for every alpha out there. But how could this be true? Papers, radios, gossip – all presented successful alpha-omega soul-bond relationships as the most long lasting ones.

Staring at the chances for the weekly lottery and comparing them to a statistical overview of all of England’s inhabitants with a designation, Bond suddenly saw the lower part of the screen come to life with a text message.

>Yes, my chances of winning the lottery were higher than finding you.<

Slightly annoyed but mainly amused Bond asked loudly, just to find out if there were microphones as well, “Q, are you monitoring me again?”

>Always, 007<

A little beep indicated that a connection could be opened and this time Q allowed Bond to decide if he would accept the request or not. As soon as he did, a small window popped up. Bond saw a video of Q, whose eyes were roaming over the monitors in front of him. His calm “handler voice” was transmitted over the internal speakers, but Bond decreased the volume instantly, when he noticed that the words were not meant for him.

“Turn left, 005. No, your other left if you please.”

After a brief period of waiting Q explained evenly, “Yes, I am aware that this is the fastest way out of the factory, but you will encounter your pursuers in less than 25 meters if you don’t turn around _now!_ ”

>You look confused<

Bond was once more impressed with Q’s ability to multitask.

On the other hand, he would not be branch-leader at his young age if he didn’t possess amazing skills.

Nevertheless, Bond felt a little proud of his quartermaster, but shoved down that notion quickly, assuming that Q had him somewhere on a hidden screen, and he didn’t want to be caught with a smug look on his face. Bond responded to Q’s observation by reducing the conversation to typing so that he would not compromise 005’s escape. Bond stared at the keyboard in front of him. There were several questions that had crossed his mind a few nights ago. But none of them seemed appropriate to ask. Finally he settled for:

>If there are so few of us, why is everybody thinking that there are thousands upon thousands of alphas and omegas, only waiting to meet to make each other happy/miserable?<

He regretted the question as soon as he had sent it, but couldn’t erase it now.

“There is a motorcycle in the parking lot behind the factory. Use your mobile to start it. Yes, there is spare ammunition in the saddlebag, just in case. Good luck, 005, your plane leaves in seventy minutes.”

Turning around after speaking to one of his minions Q was considerably more relaxed when he faced the camera again. He even allowed a small smile towards the camera, before resuming his work. After a minute, Bond got his answer.

>Because they can’t tell those with a designation apart from a human like we can.<

Now undeniably confused Bond asked, “What do you mean, like we can?”

He saw Q’s forehead crease for a moment before he started typing again:

>How can you tell that I am an alpha?<

After a moment’s hesitation Bond typed:

>My body reacts accordingly<

Q, rolling his eyes, looked like a schoolmaster who had to deal with an especially uncomprehending pupil. He took some minutes to answer a question from one of his minions before returning his attention, at least a part of it, back to Bond.

>And if you were not sexually interested in me, how could you tell then?<

>I couldn’t<

>Meet me at the Book-Worm around five<

After that order, Q terminated the visual connection and closed the chat. That left Bond with several hours to continue his research and read about biology, evolution, psychological assessments and social studies on alphas, betas, omegas and “ordinary” humans. At the end of his research, he didn’t feel that his knowledge about how to deal with his own designation had improved all that much. He had learned some new things nevertheless:

“Alpha” was a name coined for human beings that were not only dominant but also the most caring. Their sole purpose in life was to protect their pack, which usually contained at least one omega – the alpha’s perfect counterpart – and at least one or two, sometimes more, betas, that would revel in the natural order and protect the omega when the alpha was not able to do so. Pack mentality at its peak.

The “Betas” were something like the “in between”. They came with either dominant or submissive streaks but always had a leaning. To be happy they needed either an alpha to submit to or an omega to protect. Although in most cases, a human with a tendency towards dominance or submission would usually do the trick for them.

“Omegas”, who were worse off in Bond’s opinion, needed a central figure in their life that they could revolve around. No matter what they did, no matter whom they worked for, as long as there was someone who gave them the feeling that they were protected and cared for, they were able to function with maximum efficiency. Without that, especially after losing their alpha, they would usually waste away and die. That explained why so many of them preferred being miserable at home rather than soaring freely and risk fading.

While a human could work as a suitable replacement for a beta, alphas and omegas were completely dependent on one another. No human, not even a beta, could ever give them the emotional stability they found in the opposite designation.

Soul bonds were rare, very rare. Less than 0'01% of all people ever experienced them. But when they happened, they were strong, stronger than anything else. Stronger than marriage, stronger than love, because when an omega was claimed by an alpha and allowed that claim, their souls connected and allowed them to share their emotions and sometimes, on very rare occasions of great distress or great joy, even their thoughts.

It sounded like a fairy tale to Bond, too good to be true, and a part of him was convinced that at least the stories about the soul-bonds were made up by optimistic couples and nothing more. True love existed and one could learn to read his partner’s emotions and react accordingly. That was observation and care but nothing else.

Everything was about physical interaction.

Touches could agitate or calm. Under the right circumstances it was a tremendously effective instrument to influence the mood of a human with a designation. While one would feel uncomfortable when touched unrequested – sadly his work occasionally demanded such touches – Bond himself had experienced with Q that a touch could be grounding and calming like nothing else when accepted and he wasn’t even thinking about sexual intercourse in that regard. Q’s physical closeness alone had worked better than alcohol for him. And that truly said something, considering that he used the liquid comfort for the most part of his life.

>Leaving<

A message popped up in the chat to remind him that he was supposed to meet Q in the café in about 40 minutes. Saving his research he went to the bathroom to shave and then chose one of his more casual suits to meet with the alpha. This was close to a proper date. Though he had not asked but been ordered, he would at least be able to wear suitable attire and had enough money to pay the bill. Two out of three was not bad, not bad at all.

 

~ 007 ~

 

The coffee shop was not as crowded in the evening as it was after the end of typical working hours. Bond took his time to flirt with an elderly woman behind the counter, asking her about the local delicacies and what for the love of god was in the “Arabian night in a cup” that he had the other time – the mixture had been very sweet and spicy, nearly melting his tongue and sending his synapses into overdrive from the sugar-rush.

The charming woman explained good natured about several pastries and sandwiches. She offered a variety of them for tasting because they were her “specialty”, and Bond noticed that nearly all of them had been on Q’s plate a few days ago. Nevertheless, she adamantly resisted revealing the recipe for the special coffee mixture, instead offering to serve him a different exotic brew for free.

Willing to take the risk, Bond agreed and started a mental list of sandwiches he would like to try before he retreated to the same table they had used last time. He felt rather taken aback when the lady, she wore a nametag with the name “Moira” on her apron, tried to shoo him away from the couch. That place was reserved for a very special guest she explained.

Bond was even more astounded when he suddenly saw Q wrapping his arms around Moira, placing his chin on her shoulder and declaring with a mischievous smile, “You should have a little more fate, darling. James is a special guest, is he not?”

Obviously amused by the gesture and the improper use of the word “faith/fate” Moira asked, “Did you come up with this all on your own, you little sneak?”

Feigning offense, Q said, “No, I googled variations of the meaning of your name. What do you think of me? Do I look like a lexicon?”

Laughing, Moira turned in Q’s arms and embraced him in a bone-crushing hug. “It’s so good to see you again Quentin. It has been over a month!”

With a dismissive shrug of his shoulders, Q criticized, “It’s not my fault that you usually only work from ten to six darling. Other people are working too.”

“Sneaking in at lunchtime wasn’t such a problem for you before.” She accused, crossing her arms in front of herself.

Feigning indignation, Q raised his chin a little higher and declared, “Before, I didn’t command my own kingdom!”

All three of them laughed when Q raised a pencil he had nicked from the woman in a sword-like manner, and posed for their amusement.

Moira swatted him on the arm playfully and promised, “One day I will find out who you are working for, and then there will be none of those stories anymore.”

Q kissed her gently on the cheek before turning towards James. Tenderly he said, “One day you might, darling, one day you might.”

Finally, when Q was free of the doting woman, Bond dragged him down so that the younger man was forced to sit on his lap. He buried his face in Q’s neck and inhaled deeply a few times. Until now he hadn’t even been aware of how much he missed the proximity to the alpha. Only now was Bond able to relax, noticing all of a sudden how tense he had been all through the day. Finally the agent drew back and asked with a mischievous grin, “Quentin?”

Q didn’t seem to have any problems with public displays of affection; after a brief kiss he slid down landing on the couch beside James and shrugged, “The name is as good as any.”

“But it isn’t yours.”

It was a statement rather than a question and Q confirmed Bond’s suspicion with the easy question, “Does it matter?”

For a long moment Bond studied the young man that sat beside him.

Q was a title, used as a name. It was the description of a person as well as that of a position in MI6. But whatever this man called himself, Bond knew him, would be able to pick Q out of 7 billion people. So in the end, he could only come to one conclusion, “No, not in the slightest.”

When Moira provided Q with a cuppa, she smiled at the both of them and asked what would they like to eat.

Although the café seemed to serve customers exclusively at the counter, Bond realized that the last time they had been here, Q had been served as well.

The waiter had been terribly unpleasant but had served them regardless. After asking for two different types of sandwiches, allowing Q to add a third to the list, then ordering two types of pastries his quartermaster had seemed to like before, Bond smiled at Moira, realizing that she didn’t bother to write the order down.

Relaxing against the cushions, Q looked at Bond as if he was unsure of how to start.

His eyes were so inquisitive that Bond couldn’t help but laugh, “What?”

“You can’t tell an alpha from a beta or a human.”

Once again, a comment that was more a statement than a question. So Bond answered with a dry, “Of course not, how should I?”

That was laughable. No one could tell the designation of a person unless he or she was willing to reveal it. That’s why the government suspected that there were a lot more “omegas” around than those who were currently registered. But they had no way of knowing, so in the end it didn’t really matter.

“How can you tell me apart from anybody else? When we are not … you know, engaged?” Although open with displays of affection, Q’s face was covered in an adorable red as he started to talk, or at least imply, coupling. After enjoying the picture for a moment, Bond simply shrugged and said: “I can smell you.”

With a small smile, Q beckoned his agent to come closer and presented his neckline.

Unable to resist the offer Bond leaned into him and stroked the warm and soft skin with his nose, inhaling a fragrance that was uniquely Q.

“Having fun?” The woman’s voice was amused and slightly teasing.

Both men separated with a laugh but when Moira started to retreat, Q held her back. “Could we borrow you for an experiment, darling?”

Eyeing both of them with a calculating look, the elderly lady simply sat down on the armchair that faced the couch and declared, “If you plan on doing something naughty, I will spank you!”

Bond started to laugh at the idea but froze when Q prompted, “Now scent her.”

Taken aback by the demand Bond looked rather puzzled and then turned towards the woman.

She obviously found nothing strange about that request. Her motherly charm and soft smile seemed rather inviting, contradicting his expectations of being slapped when approaching her.

So Bond stood up and crouched down before her.

When he was within reach, he felt her soft, worn hand on his neckline stroking over his pulse point in a soothing manner before tilting her head a little, offering it rather freely, “Go on, love. I won’t bite you.”

Caught up in the rather surreal situation Bond leaned into her and inhaled deeply. There was some lavender, coffee and several spices of course, but there was something else underneath, something unique that reminded him of … it reminded him of … of Q. He turned to the alpha in utter astonishment.

Q was smiling at him proudly, aware that his omega realized what he had tried to show him.

Looking at the woman again, he felt compelled by her kind and tender eyes and didn’t draw back when she touched his neck again.

Her words were soft and affectionate when she whispered, “Quentin is your first alpha isn’t he? Poor thing. I can’t even image how it must be to live alone for such a long time. But don’t you worry; our Quentin is a fine young man. He will take care of you.” After that, she copied the gesture that Bond had learned to recognize as exclusively Q. When she stood up she brushed her lips lovingly over his forehead before turning around and returning to her work.

Sitting down next to Q again, Bond thought about the experience and the implications that came with it. After a few minutes he finally said, “So you can identify an alpha at any given time, everywhere in the world, just by smell.”

Q nodded and explained: “Yes. It’s harder when they are on suppressants, but when you know what to look for, then yes you can identify them.”

“Who is she?” Bond looked after Moira in bewilderment but with a lot of affection.

She was simply lovely, motherly and warm. She was the kind of person that instantly instilled comfort in a person, no matter how wound up he was. She seemed the perfect person to run a café where people came to relax and calm down.

Bond was not really surprised when Q admitted in a soft and warm voice, “The only other alpha I know in central London.”

Yes, Bond thought. Everything about Moira felt right. He felt completely at ease with her despite not knowing her in the slightest. Thinking about what that said about the other woman in his life, the woman he had turned to for support and guidance he finally admitted, “I always thought that M was …”

Q just nodded before saying, “I know, we all thought so. But I was never close enough to confirm it. And I didn’t want to read her file. She …” he stopped, looking for the right words in vain, before he simply admitted, “It wouldn’t have been right.”

Bond agreed and put his head on Q’s shoulder only to be rewarded with a gentle caress of his hair.

For a few minutes the two of them sat beside each other in silence.

Coming to a conclusion, Bond reckoned, “I don’t think she was an alpha. She was strong and she … for me she … it was enough but,” trailing off, unable to create a sensible sentence out of his memories.

It was hard for Bond to speak his mind. Finally he whispered, “When you touch me … even when Moira did just now … it’s different. It was never like that with M.”

A soft kiss was placed on his head, just before Q whispered, “I know James. I know exactly what you mean; because it’s the same for me.”

Better chances of winning the lottery, than to find your omega … scary thought.

 

~ 007 ~

 

After a few minutes that they spent lost in their thoughts, both men straightened and reached for their dinner.

As expected, the sandwiches were really good and the one Q had added, truly delicious. The coffee however was nearly more than Bond could handle.

Although he was used to surviving on food from all over the world – when you were stationed in a desert or tundra you couldn’t be picky – the heavy spiced flavour with the slightly sweet note underneath overwhelmed his taste buds.

Coughing a little after the first sip but instantly going back for more, Bond couldn’t help but laugh at the mischievous woman behind the counter.

“You like it, don’t you?” Q’s voice was tremendously amused, handing over a napkin to clean up the drops that had splattered on the table with Bond’s cough. “Moira prides herself on her ability to find the perfect mixture for each and every one of her guests.”

Thinking about that, the man simply nodded.

The mixture was very intense, just like the “Arabian nights in a cup” he had before. But it was less sweet, just the right balance of all flavors.

So he admitted, “Yes, I like it very much.”

“You know what? I already planned on buying more coffee; we are nearly out of it. I think I will try to persuade her to give us the basic mixture, so that we can experiment with it at home.” Q winked and left his seat, taking his empty cup on a ‘mission’. He approached the counter with sparkling eyes, obviously expecting to be contradicted when trying to buy some coffee.

Bond had already noticed that Moira and Q liked to bicker with each other, so he enjoyed the picture. Both were speaking to each other empathically, using a lot of exaggerated gestures to make their point. Bond let them haggle and returned to his sandwiches.

 

~ 007 ~

 

He noticed that Marco – the waiter from two days ago – approached the table again. This time he brought a cup on a small tablet.

Having no intention to interact with a person that had been so tremendously rude towards Q, Bond simply nodded, but refrained from looking up. The jerk wasn’t worth his time.

Marco however, seemed to have other ideas, because his unpleasant, nasal voice cut through the relaxed atmosphere when he sneered, “So you have followed your master again, little pup. You must be quite infatuated with our golden boy to tail after him into his realm so willingly. In case you haven’t noticed, pet, you are quite outnumbered here.”

Rolling his eyes inwardly at the stupidity – honestly why should he care about this jerk when he had toppled nations by killing their leaders and survived interrogations with nearly every bone in his body broken – Bond refused to let this boy ruin a perfectly pleasant evening.

The sandy-haired boy however didn’t seem to like being ignored because within a moment he stepped up to Bond and aimed to poke his shoulder to make him react.

Before that happened, the agent enjoyed imagining snatching the hand before it reached him. Turning it around so that the boy’s arm would be twisted behind his back, grabbing his head, knocking it against – table was bad, pastries and sandwiches still on it, couch was too soft – oh yes, knocking it against the bookshelf right next to them, letting him go and enjoying the view of this nasty creature falling down in a heap, crawling away to lick his wounds.

The stab however didn’t come.

The situation changed within heartbeat, Bond had already tensed up, ready to defend himself from any attack that was about to come.

A swirl of bodies right in front of him demanded his undivided attention. Suddenly, he felt his heart racing and his breath coming in big gasps when an immense wave of fury washed over him. Standing up and retreating silently to get a better picture of the situation he realized that the emotions were not his.

The source of the overwhelming anger was his quartermaster.

The young man now stood between Marco and the Double-Oh. Q held Marco’s right wrist in his hand. His grip was so strong that his knuckles turned white and Bond was convinced that the joint would break if the quartermaster kept upping the pressure. Q’s voice was like blazing steel and full of loathing when he hissed at the waiter: “You will never ever touch someone who’s under my care. I have made this mistake once but never again!”

Clearly not getting what kind of danger he was in, the captive sneered, “You think you are so clever, Quentin. But you have no power over me. I am not one of your little pets to order around. I will do as I goddamned please!”

Tightening his grip so that the young man was now struggling to free his arm, Q threatened in a very low, growling and vicious voice, “If you ever dare to get close to him again; if you so much as think of hurting him, I will destroy you. I will eradicate you from the face of the earth and no one will ever find you. Have I made myself clear, Marco?”

The name was spit out with so much venom, while his fingers tightened once more; one could get the impression that Q spoke about the most abhorrent vermin that tainted the earth.

Only now the waiter realized what kind of situation he was in. Panicking he tugged on his arm, desperately trying to get it free, but it was completely in vain.

Q was in complete predator mode and would only release his prey if it was down, or he had calmed down enough to think clearly.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Bond slowly approached Q from behind. Not sure if he should talk to him or if Q would lash out at him as well, he forced himself to calm down and assess the situation.

It was highly unlikely that Q would really kill the guy; in Bond’s opinion he simply didn’t possess the skills necessary for that. But he could seriously harm this stupid jerk, and, unlike Bond, he was not above the law when it came to injuring people.

Bond needed to calm him down. But how, if Q wouldn’t allow his touch?

This was unlike the situation in the bedroom a few days ago. Then the quartermaster had simply been angry and stressed out. But this was beyond anger, beyond fury, Q had regressed to the most basic behaviour humans, especially alphas, were capable of. He used his mind, body and all of his emotions to get his rival down to his knees, establishing his superior position.

Moira was the one who saved the situation, stepping up to the trio, eyes fixed at Bond. She didn’t make the mistake of talking to Q, and despite being obviously influenced by Q’s anger as well – she was visibly tense and her breathing rate was elevated – she looked first at him, then towards Q and gestured for him to touch the furious alpha.

Having no other choice but to trust the woman, Bond closed in on Q from behind. A part of him wanted to run, wanted to hide from the fury of this alpha. But he knew that if he couldn’t calm down his quartermaster, this situation would most likely end in a broken wrist and rather unpleasant consequences if Q set his mind to it. What had Q said?

Taking a deep breath, Bond cautiously wound his arms around the wrathful man in front of him. The slender body felt like steel, trembling with anger, glaring down at the now whimpering boy who kneeled before him, desperately clawing at Q’s hand to get his strong fingers off of his wrist. Bond forced his breathing to even out, his heartbeat to slow. Covering Q’s whole back with his front, he touched his forehead against the mop of unruly hair in front of him, whispering silently, “He didn’t touch me. I would have never allowed him to hurt me. Trust me Q. Everything is alright. You can let him go now. It’s okay; I am completely safe. Just let him go.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Q opened his hand, but didn’t move until Moira helped Marco up, swatting him with her tea towel, before steering him off towards the back room.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Still feeling the hard form of his alpha trembling with fury, Bond refrained from opening his arms. Instead he held on to Q, breathing evenly, willing his calm into the agitated body in front of him.

After several minutes Q was finally able to get himself under control again, but still had not made to move away from his agent.

Smiling, Bond retreated towards the couch, dragging his quartermaster with him. He sat the young man next to him, back snuggled into the side of the taller man, wrapped in his strong arms. Nobody said a word, Bond because he was once more amused about the discomfort Q showed every time his dominant side surfaced, and Q because he was terribly embarrassed to have lost it so spectacularly in front of everybody.

But ever since Amy, Marco had the uncanny ability to rub him the wrong way. He had known that Bond would be more than able to defend himself against the waiter but had been unable to stand back and let things unfold.

Willing the young man away from his awkward thoughts Bond asked in a light, slightly teasing voice: “So, never again, quartermaster? Care to explain that?”

Relaxing a little, Bond could feel Q losing some of his tension when he answered with a shrug, “A few years ago, when I was still at the university, I was working here. Wanted to get some money, and to get out of the house to prevent myself from getting buried in my computers and accidentally starving myself and making myself sick.”

That was a rather insightful comment, but Bond just nodded, not saying anything.

The younger man continued, “In my third year, my last at the university, Marco started to work here as well. We clashed a little at the start, but Moira would have none of it so we set for a friendly rivalry and started to become something like friends. That changed however, when a young girl started to visit regularly. She was petite, blonde with eyes as green as the sea. She was a natural submissive and felt comfortable with Moira who mothered her as soon as she had stepped over the threshold. Amy came here once a week, then twice, then four times until she practically did all her studies in here. When Moira wasn’t available, I looked out for her. I shooed away men who scared her and gave her a table close to the counter.”

Q drew a deep sigh and relaxed on Bond’s shoulder, lost in memories.

Bond listened intently. This was the first story Q told where Bond could learn something about him. The first insight he got into his quartermaster’s past and he would not miss a single syllable.

Q’s voice became reluctant and low as he continued, looking at his hands that were intertwined in a nervous gesture. “Marco is a natural dominant. That’s why we clashed at the beginning. Wrong pecking order or something like that, Moira understands it better than I do. So while I protected Amy and did everything in my power to keep her safe, Marco made advances towards her.

Enjoying the attention and the care, Amy soon fell for him and within a month they were a couple. I was happy for them, I truly was, but after about half a year Amy became more and more silent, retreated into herself a little more with each passing day. That’s when I noticed that Marco is not only dominant but sadistic as well. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with whatever makes a couple happy in the bedroom, but it has to work for both sides. However, it didn’t work for Amy and when Marco aimed for more she became unhappier with each passing day.

I tried to talk to her, talk to him, but she was not strong enough to separate herself from him, and he was too convinced of his ‘natural right’ to her to change his ways. In the end – when I realized that there were painful marks around her wrists – I picked up her things and took her with me. I had a tiny flat at the time, not far away from the campus, and that’s where I let her stay as long as she needed to before she found a place for herself.

Marco of course, came after her and that was the first time I … well, you could say I lost it. But I was nothing more than a geeky student, five years younger than all around me, and I had no chance against him. But, I had friends on the campus, people I helped with their computers and with their homework, so I called upon them, and they helped me to remove him from campus.

After that, we never really talked any more. He made snarky remarks but stayed away from me in general.”

Q looked at Bond, who smiled as he seemingly imagined the picture Q painted – imagined how he would get rid of Marco himself – Q laughed slightly at the obviously funny memory, “Maybe Marco left me alone because Moira threatened to skin him alive if he so much as laid a finger on me. You see, Marco is not the brightest candle on the tree, he needs this job desperately, so he refrained from coming after me. Amy found her own place and, well, let’s say she found someone who really cares for her.”

Testing his luck, Bond gently stroked Q’s chest, right over his heart, and asked lowly, “And what was that remark about your realm? You are awfully familiar with Moira. More than you would be with an ex-employer, even one that did right by you.”

Reaching for his cup, Q hid behind the porcelain for a few minutes, but finally decided to go through with his backstory regarding this place. “I… well … the truth is, I own a part of this café.”

Completely surprised by that comment, Bond turned the tech geek around and looked at him.

Q might be many things, but the owner of a coffee shop was definitely not one of them.

While the agent could see his quartermaster handling the rush hour, juggling the mugs and orders, keeping a calm head and working through the orders efficiently, he wasn’t able to imagine him as a business owner.

With a crooked grin, Q trailed fingers through his brown strands, messing them up further before retreating to the other side of the couch. Making himself comfortable, pulling his legs under him, reaching for his cup, he continued slightly self-consciously, “About two years ago – I had just started my new job – there was an increase in hire changes and some things broke down around here. I was still coming here at that time, and I realized that Moira was becoming sadder and sadder because no matter how hard she tried, she realized over a period of several months, that there was no chance of her getting enough money to pay the rent as well as make the necessary repairs.”

Scratching his head slightly Q continued, “I am … well, I had a little money by then. I had created several projects at the university, and one sold rather well. As one of the main engineering team members, I was paid rather handsomely for the tech support and adjusting it to the needs of the company that bought it. I had just been given a flat, and as we are paid rather handsomely I could use the majority of my money to help Moira.

“It took me two months to convince her to even consider taking it. When she finally gave in, she drew up a contract that made me partial owner of this café. So, well, that’s the story. She needed money; I had it. For the most part of my life here in London, I have felt much more at home here than in my flat. So to see it going down was not something I could bear.”

Q looked up with an apologetic grin and what he saw, mesmerized him. He had been prepared to be laughed at, to be called sentimental, even stupid. The truth was, no one knew about his and Moira’s arrangement. Bond was the first one he had revealed it to.

But his agent didn’t seem to be amused or show any signs of making fun of Q, instead he leaned towards Q and brushed his lips with his own in a rather reverent manor. Touching their foreheads together, he stated softly, “You are really an extraordinary person, Q. You should never allow anybody to make you believe otherwise.”

Q couldn’t help but thrive on his agent’s compliment, even though he was completely thrown by it. Unable to erase a brilliant smile from his face, both men returned to enjoying the rest of the evening sitting on the plush couch, drinking tea and coffee, and talking about the nasty things one could do to a person who had behaved spectacularly appallingly that would not show on any track record.

 

~ 007 ~

 


	6. Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omegas – even unbound ones – don't like being with someone that is not their alpha. And alphas most definitely don't enjoy seeing their omegas with other women.  
> Sadly sometimes these things are necessary. Luckily, sometimes they are not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The text between the tildes (~) are thoughts. But I guess you will get that as soon as you reach this part.  
> Have fun :)

After that roller-coaster start, Bond and Q fell into a settled routine. They arrived at MI6 in the morning, Bond by car while Q insisted on taking the tube. Q managed new trinkets and toys, handled his agents, supervised the completion of the new security system and started the first round of testing to get it online.

All the while Bond went to the gym, the pool, the infirmary and – most importantly – the shooting-range. It was a little dull down there in the corridors, so the agent relocated a part of his training to the chilly outdoors. He ran his rounds through the Gray’s Inn Gardens, the Temple Gardens near the Thames or Bunhill Fields just to get fresh air and a little sunlight whenever the weather allowed it.

Around two he usually returned to headquarters, bringing sandwiches, salads or pastries, once even fish and chips, to share a small lunch with Q in his office. If anybody found that odd, nobody dared to comment on it. These shared lunches had been established a few days after Bond’s return to MI6. Being in such familiar surroundings he now and then felt the overwhelming urge to assure himself that Q was still there, still with him. Although he refrained from acting upon this perceived weakness, he found himself gravitating towards Q-branch more often now, to get a peak at the alpha and catch a smile now and then.

As expected, it was Q who contacted him on his third day of rehabilitation, asking him to bring lunch after his jog through the park because the cafeteria only served things he didn’t like. Smiling about the request Bond bickered a bit that he was not Q’s manservant, and that the quartermaster should send one of his minions but complied nevertheless.

Throughout their lunch, the quartermaster started to touch his agent in an unobtrusive manner, brushed their fingers together when receiving a sandwich, offering a package of gravy or a bottle of water with such a strong grip that Bond was forced to pry it out of his fingers. They smiled and laughed through their little battles and afterwards Bond felt much more settled and at ease. Later that day he found out that there had been fish-fingers for lunch. Q loved them and they both new it, but neither mentioned it in the evening.

When Bond reported for active duty he felt stronger and more comfortable in his own skin than he had in a very long time. When M offered him a new case he took it with pleasure, eager to go back to work. It was a simple retrieve and destroy mission. He was equipped with a radio, a handgun, an USB-stick and a small detonator as well as enough explosives to level a small building.

His excitement mirrored in Q’s eyes when he received these items and he couldn’t help but smile at the familiar phrase: “And 007, please return the equipment in one piece.”

Their lovemaking that night was tense and frantic. Q was worried and every brush of his fingertips over Bond’s skin, every kiss and every whispered word showed that. The alpha had a hard time of letting Bond go, and the agent did his best to assure him that he would return. The next morning they shared a silent breakfast, and when Q went to work, he simply brushed his lips over the omega’s forehead and left without another word.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Q hated it; he truly detested seeing someone he cared for being shipped off into danger. But he knew that Bond strived in the field, to take that from him meant to deny him a part of who he was. Q would never do that. Logic told him that England needed 007, but for the first time in his life, he could comprehend the idea of taking one’s omega and locking him away for safekeeping. It would be wrong, horribly so, but he could understand the desire.

But if wishes were wings, everyone would fly and that wasn’t going to happen so Q concentrated on the handling and led 007 through the tangles of Brussels’ high society guiding him towards his target. The wife of a German ambassador would be his ticket into the embassy where the data was stored.

A distinguished, British gentleman was always an asset in meetings of the high society, and Q enjoyed the view over the hotel’s security system while Bond was preparing himself to get to become acquainted with the lovely lady. A black suit hung his frame as if it was made for him – which it actually was – and Bond’s demeanour was impeccable. The impression he made, especially on the female guests of the hotel was almost comical, and Q refrained from snickering when one woman “accidentally” dropped her purse when 007 passed her by, only to be completely ignored by the agent.

The target herself was a sight to behold. A classic German beauty with warm, blonde hair, a perfect figure and a dress that was not just expensive but incredibly tasteful, entered the bar. It was not hard for Bond’s practiced charm to appeal to her. After he had introduced himself as an upcoming business owner from England looking for new contacts on the continent, playing hard to get, earned him an invitation to the charity ball of the embassy. The German friendliness obviously made the lady feel obliged to support him, and the fact that Bond flirted tastefully but shamelessly with her definitely helped.

They spent the best part of the next two days together sightseeing in Brussels. On the evening of the third day, Bond was prepared with the floor plan of the embassy and the location of the mainframe. A dark grey tux was shimmering, even in the hard light of the bathroom, when Bond readied himself for the evening and went over the details once last time. No other handler was allowed near 007 by now and the quartermaster was standing in the middle of Q-branch, calm and ready.

The evening was pleasant and entertaining, but it was impossible for Bond to get away from his hostess. He was introduced to her husband and several other ‘important’ people. He made small-talk about economic development – accurate data provided by his handler – expansion of the eastern markets – learned from the newspaper over the last few months – and the quality of the buffet – the only thing he had been able to test for himself.

The longer the evening dragged out, the clearer it became that Bond would not be allowed a single moment to himself. When the ambassador excused himself, an Italian lady on his arm, matters developed in a more intimate direction. Being slightly intoxicated, his hostess’ advances became more and more explicit, and it was clear that the agent would only have time for the mission after she was taken care of. The problem was, he really didn’t feel up to it.

True, she was a beautiful woman, but … this was wrong. A deep, subconscious part of his mind plagued him with images of the alpha that stood in Q-branch, in the middle of the night, watching his every step, caring for him and protecting him from any harm. Q had proven faithful and committed, and Bond’s stomach turned at the thought of deceiving him.

When he excused himself for a moment, he stood at the counter in front of the wide mirror that dominated the wet rooms. When he allowed himself to lose his composure, all he could see was the reflection of a lying and cheating bastard. Although he knew that what he was about to do was for the good of his country – the expected data should prove connections of the ambassador with a foreign terrorist group – he couldn’t help but detest it.

Bond didn’t know if there were surveillance cameras on the toilet, but suddenly he heard Q’s calm handler-voice over the earpiece: “James?”

Confused by the intimate addressing, Bond took a deep breath and answered silently, “I’ll be out in a minute; I just need a moment.” He really didn’t want his handler to know that he had jitters regarding this assignment, least of all because his handler was the alpha he was thinking about.

“Do you know what I will do to you once you come home from this assignment?” no emotions betrayed the plans of his quartermaster, so Bond was forced to speculate.

~Pack my things and throw me out of your flat?~ it was a horrible thought. A thought that made his insides clench painfully, but in Bond’s opinion, a suitable reaction for what he was about to do. But he couldn’t share this thought. He couldn’t tell Q because if the quartermaster confirmed that fear, he would not be able to go through with this mission.

This was for England; this was his work, his life. After the death of his parents, this had been the only thing that had been important for him. So he forced himself fake ignorance. “No Q, what will you do?”

The voice of his quartermaster reduced to a purr when he whispered into his agent’s ear, “I will take you by your beautiful grey, silk tie and I will drag you into the bathroom. I will peel you out of your expensive suite piece by piece until you are gloriously naked in front of me. Then, I will take a long, hot shower with you, making sure you forget everything about this lovely lady, and then I will do something she will never be able to do.”

Breath hitching, because of the entirely unexpected and exceptionally desirable picture Q painted for him, Bond forced himself to ask in a hushed tone, “And what is that?”

“I will make love to you all night long.

“And now get your ass out there and seduce the hell out of that woman so that we can retrieve the data tonight, and I can have you home by tomorrow.” the seductive and amused voice of Q was so dictatorial that Bond couldn’t help himself but smile and answer with a simple, “Yes, Sir!” before leaving the bathroom to join his hostess once again.

The images the alpha had painted helped a great deal, and although a part of Bond piped up that this was not what he wanted, he was able to go through with it anyway. As soon as the satisfied woman was tucked away in her own bed, Bond made his way into the cellars of the embassy, and as soon as he had pushed the USB-stick into the mainframe, Q worked his magic. It took the quartermaster no more than five minutes to copy all the interesting data and insert a virus into the system. After following a brief command to distribute the explosives around the room, Bond returned to his hostess.

The next morning was kind of awkward, when not only the ambassador, but his wife as well, showed up with their respective conquests. But after a brief breakfast, Bond offered the Italian lady a ride home; they made plans for the evening to watch an opera together.

Once the other woman was safe at her hotel, Bond enjoyed a moment of reminiscence before triggering the detonator. It only took five minutes for the sirens to start, and satisfied about the successful outcome of the mission, Bond returned to his hotel to change into a black suit with a grey silk tie before taking a cab to the airport.

 

~ 007 ~

 

The debriefing with Tanner was fast and easy. Q had already checked the data, and with the help of his minions, started to trace the extensions of the terrorist network all through Europe. It was still early, so Bond retreated into one of the smaller offices to type his mission report before leaving headquarters.

Although he had every intention of playing out Q’s scene, he was well aware that the quartermaster would not be home for several hours. After stepping into the Book-Worm for a quick lunch and chatting with Moira for the better part of an hour, Bond finally returned home, mentally preparing himself for a lonely afternoon.

What he didn’t expect was an alpha growling into his face as soon as he entered the flat. Obviously Q didn’t care about office hours when it came to the return of his agent. Being tremendously happy to see him, Bond felt rather playful and resisted the gentle tug on his tie as soon as Q grabbed it.

There was a sparkle in his alpha’s eyes as he realized the challenge. Q’s voice was throaty, as he questioned, “You don’t want to make this easy for yourself?”

“When have I ever done anything the easy way?” was the rather spirited reply.

After a brief assessment of the situation, Q said, “Well, have it your way then.”

And with that he dragged down his agent and covered his mouth with a demanding kiss. Winding the grey tie around his fist to keep Bond close, Q pressed him against the entrance door. For now only their chests met, and the younger man used the leverage to keep him in place, carefully avoiding touching their pelvises.

Demanding entrance into Bond’s mouth, Q couldn’t help but smile when his agent complied, meeting his hunger with equal need. Not letting go of the tie, the alpha slid his other hand under the other man’s jacket. His fingers brushed over hard muscles that covered his agent’s chest, stroked their way to his back where he could feel hot skin that was covered with scratches from the blonde woman Bond had had the night before. Carefully drawing a line over each mark, he could hear his agent hiss at the contact.

Desperately Bond shoved himself forward, only to feel Q retreat further and further. When the young man stroked his spine, covering the scratches with his fingers, making them his own, Bond couldn’t hold in an eager groan. He wanted this; he needed this. This man, this alpha, it felt so utterly right to be with him, to be touched by him, have the past encounter – as necessary as it might have been – erased by his demanding ministrations. Digging his fingers into Q’s hips, Bond frantically tried to move their bodies together, only to meet resistance once again.

When he looked into Q’s eyes, slightly anxious because of the rejection, he found his quartermasters pupils blown wide with desire and an amused grin on his lips as he asked provocatively, “I thought you wanted the hard way?”

“Screw the hard way!” was Bond’s strained answer before he once again tried to fuse their bodies together. An unhappy sound escaped his throat when Q drew back completely, connecting them only by his tug on Bond’s tie.

In his eyes was no small amount of triumph, but Bond couldn’t care less at the moment. He shivered when the quartermaster leaned into him covering his whole front with his body, but he kept himself from reacting to the contact. Any attempts for more contact had made Q retreat in the first place, but he couldn’t help but groan when he felt the hot breath of the young man on his ear as he informed him, “In that case, you have exactly thirty seconds to get into the bathroom and get rid of your clothes.”

Bond scrambled to obeyed the order, as soon as Q let go of his tie. Practically ripping his shirt from his body and throwing his trousers and shoes into a corner, he thought to start the shower only five seconds before Q languidly strolled into the bathroom. Shivering slightly from the cold as well as from arousal, Bond couldn’t tear his eyes away as Q opened his cardigan in a slow and unhurried manner, carefully folding the piece of cloth on the counter, only to continue with his dress-shirt, button by button, revealing inch after inch of smooth skin.

Unsure if he was allowed to participate, but unable to hold back any longer Bond approached his quartermaster slowly, drinking in the sight of his naked torso. Prepared to be told off at any second, he slowly sank to his knees in front of Q, cautiously reaching for the belt in his trousers. When no rebuff came, he slowly worked the string of leather free, before opening Q’s trousers, only to find him without any kind of pants once again.

The sight of the erected shaft directly in front of his eyes made him shudder, despite the fact that the bathroom had started to fill up with hot steam from the shower. Looking up pleadingly because he needed this, oh god, how much he needed this, he met the warm and affectionate eyes of his alpha, receiving unspoken permission.

Feeling like a parched man about to receive his first glass of water in days, Bond leaned in and nuzzled the hard penis tenderly. Q’s smell was so strong there, so tremendously comforting that Bond couldn’t keep himself from winding his arms around the slender man’s waist, burying himself in the smell and taste of the warm body in front of him. With a carnal hunger, he had never felt before, he started to kiss every part of Q that was within reach and when he finally took the quartermaster’s cock in his mouth, he felt the younger man’s shivers resonating through his own body.

For several minutes Q allowed his omega to satisfy his need, before nudging the man upright, guiding him into the shower. Like he had promised the day before he picked up a washcloth and soap and carefully lathered every last piece of his agent’s body with the delicious smelling foam.

The omega’s body produced pheromones in abandon, and it took every part of Q’s willpower not to fuck him right then and there. But that was not what he had promised, so after making sure that every last remnant of the soap was gone, he directed the man towards their bedroom where he had prepared the bed with fresh, soft sheets and splayed him out on top of them.

Bond’s desire was tangible, and Q couldn’t stop himself any more. Seeing the willing and passionate man in his bed he decided to stop the teasing. Covering his agent’s body with his own, instantly was enveloped by two strong legs, as well as hands that seemed unable to get enough of him, enough skin, enough contact, enough assurance that he was really there, willing to take what was offered.

Unable to deny his omega any longer, Q buried himself in James body and for several moments, the two men just basked in the glory of the union, a union that was so badly needed, after an encounter with another partner. Their breath mingled while their foreheads touched, and when Bond finally drew back to look upon his quartermaster, there was so much adoration and devotion in his eyes, that Q couldn’t help but kiss him in the most loving way.

Q couldn’t speak his mind, couldn’t tell his agent of his feelings that surpassed the simple need to care and to protect by now. Although they had shared the bed for only two weeks, Q felt that his heart would break if he ever had to let James go. But the omega was not ready for this form of commitment.

So Q allowed his body to tell what words could not. When he finally started to move, he drove into the omega with strong but unhurried strokes. Passion, desire, these feelings were a part of their lovemaking, but not the reason they were together. For a long time they simply revelled in their proximity. Kissed and caressed, and when the both of them finally reached their peak, it was more like an exhalation of a breath they had been holding for too long, than a mind-blowing explosion. Neither of them would have it any other way.

Bond refused to let go of Q even when both of them knew that there would be no more intercourse for now, and Q allowed it with a content smile on his face, splayed over the broad chest below him. For several hours they lounged in their bed, uncaring about the world outside their flat. Only when Bond’s stomach grumbled angrily, did Q unwind himself from Bond’s arms and start his hunt for clothes.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Clad only in a pair of low sitting sweatpants Q made his way to the kitchen, to drag out everything he had bought for this evening. Steak, rice, fresh salad; all the ingredients for a nice, easy dinner at home. After consulting a cooking-website, he had even found the perfect seasoning for the steak. Having prepared everything before, the young man knew, that the rice would cook in the microwave, and the meat would simply go into the pan for a few minutes.

Preparing two glasses of wine, he smiled at Bond when the agent trailed into the kitchen after him, clad in exactly the same way. Q had started to buy his sweatpants one size bigger than he needed because while he could tie them tighter for his own hips, they sat more comfortably on Bond’s. Seeing his omega in his own clothes was worth the minimal discomfort of slightly oversized clothing.

Retreating to the living room as soon as their diner was ready, Q started another episode of “Mission Impossible” for them to enjoy during their meal. One episode became two and then three, but after that, when Bond had finally snuggled onto his chest, he didn’t feel like distracting himself from the here and now. Having the other man so close, smelling him, feeling him, touching him, was more than enough to keep Q content. He had taken the suppressants when Bond had left, but tomorrow he wouldn’t need them and a part of him enjoyed that.

Bond’s whispered words were inaudible, so Q just brushed a kiss over his head before resuming scratching the short hair with gentle fingers and asking, “What did you say?”

Repeating a little louder the agent admitted, “Thank you for your support yesterday. I don’t know if I would have been able to go through this mission without you.”

Deciphering the somehow confusing comment, Q smiled when he realized that his headstrong, stubborn and oh so insecure agent still didn’t get it. Still couldn’t comprehend what it meant for an omega to have an alpha at his side. It would take time, but he would come around eventually, so Q simply said, “Well, that’s the beauty of it James. You don’t have to. As long as you want me, I will always be there.”

It was not how it was meant to be, not entirely. An alpha and an omega were meant to be bound, to be connected on a level that surpassed everything that humans were able to imagine. But James, his beautiful, wounded omega was not ready for such a commitment, not yet, maybe not ever.

Still, Q was willing to support him, to care for him and to protect him anyway, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Because it didn’t matter if Bond was able to oblige to him or not, he needed him, and for Q that was enough.

 

~ 007 ~

 

After every mission, there was a distinctive period of at least two days, where the agents would have free time between assignments. For every seven days in the field, usually one day off was added. In the past Bond had detested this “downtime” because it had meant useless time of solitude with only a bottle as company. Now he tremendously enjoyed being back in London. He rose early, had a silent breakfast with his, ahm flatmate, yes, flatmate was good, before starting a workout routine, eating lunch at the Book-Worm, buying groceries and preparing a dinner for the quartermaster who tried to work not more than ten hours a day during such times.

Bond could understand the charm of the Book-Worm by now because Moira was tremendously funny company, supplied Bond with an endless amount of amusing stories about her guests and doted him with sweet pastries and new coffee recipes after lunch. Being entirely new to buying foods that were not just liquor and sandwiches, Bond eventually managed to find his way around the grocery, and Q’s kitchen had never been better stocked with not only tea and biscuits but basic food staples as well.

 

~ 007 ~

 

On the third day, when Bond went to Mallory for a new assignment, he found M in his office, ranting about the Prime Minister’s Ball, and all the drawbacks that came with public funding. The guest list was exclusive and the need to present MI6 in the best possible light had never been more important, especially after the disaster with Silva and the death of the former M only a month ago.

Assigning the branch-leaders to join the party, as well as 004, who was currently in London after a particularly strenuous month in Johannesburg, M decided that Bond should accompany her because a pair of Double-Oh agents would surely impress the Prime Minister.

Eyes rolling, Bond obliged and prepared himself for another meeting with “Anderson & Sheppard”. Such an event definitely called for a new suit and he had neglected his tailor for far too long. Receiving an appointment for the next day, Bond speculated on what Q would wear for such an event. Being head of Q-branch surely meant that his appearance was mandatory.

The days until Friday passed somewhat uneventfully. Bond had the last meeting with his tailor Thursday afternoon and the deep-blue tux was delivered the next morning. Being used to Q’s quarrelling and bickering about the uselessness of such an event, Bond was completely taken aback when the quartermaster finally emerged from his bathroom, hair tamed in a slightly unruly but nevertheless fashionable hairstyle, clad in a classic black tuxedo that fit him perfectly.

Swallowing heavily, Bond stepped up to Q, brushed invisible dust from the young man’s shoulders and straightened the bow tie that was bound perfectly. He swallowed hard when Q closed in on him and whispered seductively in his ear, “If you behave tonight, I will allow you to peel me out of this thing come morning.”

Unable to resist this temptation, Bond grabbed Q by his lapels, dragged him closer and kissed the hell out of him. Both men were panting hard when they let go of each other because no matter who started the kiss, they both always gave as good as they got. So with slightly elevated breathing, both grinned before picking up the last accessories, Bond his cigarettes and lighter and Q the inevitable handheld, before leaving the flat for the palace.

 

In front of Buckingham palace they met with other members of MI6. Both women, 004 as well as Moneypenny, wore long evening dresses. While the female agent’s was made of light-blue silk that hung on her frame from shoulders to ankles like a second skin and was covered only by a see-through scarf, Moneypenny’s dress was made of deep-red velvet and showed exactly the right amount of her deep, ebony skin. As expected Bond offered his arm to the agent and Eve added herself to Q’s arm. Ready for battle, they entered the palace right behind Mallory, meeting the other branch-leaders inside.

Although things were more about ‘seeing and be seen’, the music was pleasant, the champagne tasteful and the small canapés delicious. While the women persuaded their men to dance with them occasionally, even swapping partners, the evening dragged on in the expected manner. Pleasantries were shared, work was presented in the most appealing light.

Yet, the later the evening, the more uninhibited the guests.

It took Bond some time to notice that whenever a beautiful woman was talking to him, his quartermaster would be around a few minutes later, steering him away from the company, informing him of M’s need of him or simply presenting him with another drink that was accompanied by a discrete touch on the small of his back.

It was around midnight when the agent finally got the suspicion that Q was keeping him from every woman that was not from MI6. Willing to test his theory, he started to flirt with one of the female guests, only to feel Q beside him within moments. Willing to enjoy the game a little longer, Bond faked ignorance only to be rewarded with a low rumble beside him that finally scared the lady away. When he turned towards his quartermaster, he saw a dangerous gleam in his eyes and was requited with an angry hiss before Q spun on his heel and disappeared to the terrace.

Lowering his heart rate by sheer will, Q in predatory mode was always something that agitated Bond, he took his time following the alpha.

He found the quartermaster in a dark corner, a cigarette in his hand – Bond had absolutely no idea where it had come from – nursing a tumbler of whiskey.

When Bond approached him, he was rewarded with another growl, but being sure that Q would never hurt him, Bond just took the cigarette from Q’s lips, allowed himself a deep drag before returning it. The clenched and unclenched fingers showed Bond the level of distress Q currently was under, and for a brief moment he regretted playing him. But then, they both were new to this, so he had no way of knowing that his flirting would upset the younger man so much.

Waiting patiently for his quartermaster to calm down a little Bond said after several minutes, “You are not fond of woman flirting with me.”

A more obvious statement had never been uttered, and usually these things were below them, but tonight Q’s answer was rather sharp as he clarified: “You are mine! And I don’t share!”

The announcement was accompanied by an incredibly possessive kiss and Bond had to keep himself from melding against the slender frame. His body reacted on instinct to the proprietorial handling but this was work, so with no chance of Q fucking him right here and now, he had to keep himself in check.

The compliance towards the kiss seemed to pacify Q somehow because he let go of the tumbler and trailed his hands through his dark hair. With a deep breath he let go of Bond’s neck and gestured towards the ballroom. He was calmer now that the Omega had offered himself so willingly. Therefore he nudged his agent towards the door and ordered, “Go, dance with Eve or 004. I will join you in a few minutes.”

Smiling about the spectacular control his alpha showed, Bond pushed him back, deeper into the darkness and dragged him into his arms. He buried his face in the younger man’s neck, taking in the smell and rubbing their bodies together so that Q’s fragrance would linger on him.

Quietly he whispered, “No one is having me Q. No matter what happens, I will return to you when this is over. I’m not interested in any of these women.” Just like he had not been interested in the woman in Brussels, still she had been necessary. Here in London, all that was expected of him was that he was his usual charming self and that he left a good impression of MI6 and its agents.

Clearly pacified by the gesture, Q touched their foreheads and admitted silently, “I know James. I just don’t like the way they look at you. Go. I’ll follow soon.”

The ball dragged out until the sun rose over the horizon, but Mallory was clearly satisfied with the outcome. Obviously the two Double-Oh’s and the branch leaders had left a flawless impression, so the funding for the next few months was secured. The small group of MI6 employees enjoyed a breakfast in a nearby coffee shop before separating for their free weekend.

 

~ 007 ~

 

The flat looked like a flea market, parts of two tuxedos, one black and slim-fit, one dark-blue, decorated the floor and furniture all the way towards the bedroom. Being far too tired for anything, both men fell into bed as soon as they had guarded their bedroom from the morning light and fell asleep intertwined as soon as their heads hit the pillows. They knew that they were together and no one would have a chance of coming between them, for tonight, that was more than enough.

 

~ 007 ~

 


	7. Fire in my veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the fire of heat starts to spread, who was going to be burned in the process?

It happened on the day that Bond finished his mission in Syria. Three months had passed since his assignment in Brussels. Following a lead to one of the terrorist cells, Bond had found the President’s son who had been kidnapped and held hostage in a muddy and clammy cellar. Immediately the teenager became his main priority. However, 007 still managed to mount explosives in the kidnappers’ headquarters. He was holding the young boy close when they rode the bike away from the explosion. After returning the boy to his parents, Bond felt feverish and dizzy. Assuming that he had caught some kind of exotic virus, Bond took two aspirin along with his suppressants in the morning to be fit for receiving official honours from the government for service towards the country.

His vial was labelled Q², a kind of practical joke between his quartermaster and the doctor, who feigns ignorance about the patient for whom he was preparing the suppressants. Nevertheless, they work sublimely, and it’s better to receive them from a doctor he trusts than from a seedy dealer in an alley just because he couldn’t allow to make his designation known. There had always been ways to get them, but this was easier, and the suppressants work so much better when created with his own blood.

The fever never really went down, but he managed to get through the day, receiving the honours with dignity before he took a train to Turkey. There he picked up a parcel from a local informant before returning to headquarters. In the evening, his whole body was burning, and no amount of aspirin seemed to get his temperature down. He needed to get home, to MI6 to get checked out, surely they would find what he had caught and will be able to treat him.

When he finally sat in the acclimatized section of the first class on his flight back to England, it hit him like a hammer: his heat!

The first heat he encountered since his association with Q. Usually, he would be prepared for this.

Bond was an Omega and these things happened occasionally, two or three times a year, depending on his stress level. He had enough medication with him, but the idea of suffering through another heat on his own, high on suppressants that made it barely tolerable put him off. He felt his body preparing for intercourse and swore silently before taking another suppressant in addition to the one he took in the morning.

The medication would make the flight manageable and kept his hormones at bay. Otherwise every alpha in a one-mile radius would feel the desire to mount him, the hormones he put out like a sirens song to them. The idea that he would be ready for them, willing to be taken by anybody else but Q sent shivers down his spine. He barely managed to get through the flight.

 

~ 007 ~

 

When Bond entered headquarters, he was shivering profoundly. His pants were sticking to his thighs because of the lubricant he was producing in preparation of being taken. His dress shirt was plastered to his body because he was so hot and his torso was covered in sweat. He was barely able to form a coherent sentence when he checked in with Q-branch, handing over the hard disk from Turkey.

Bond had been in the room for barely two minutes when he noticed Q standing in the door of his office, watching him with a hungry and intense look. The young man appeared very much like the beast of prey every alpha was underneath their human façades.

The slight growl reverberates much too loudly through the suddenly silent Q-branch, acting as a warning for each and every person working there. The minions didn’t intervene, looking from the agent to their quartermaster, not even daring to breathe. For Bond however, it was like a beacon that called to him. While most of the workers force their concentration back to their monitors, Bond staggers towards Q’s office.

His whole body was shaking, due to the strain of keeping himself under control, and with an alpha so close by it only got worse. Every instinct he possessed demanded from him to kneel, to present himself, appeal to the alphas dominant side to present like suitable prey, ready to be taken. Fighting against his very nature, Bond barely succeeded to keep himself upright. But when the agent entered the confined room, he was unable to fight the desire to get as close to his quartermaster, this alpha, as possible.

Q however keeps his distance, stepping back when Bond entered. His pupils were blown wide and his breathing was pitched, but instead of zoning in on the omega, claiming him and marking him as his own through this heat, the alpha pulled back, watching Bond with hard eyes.

The address was chosen carefully, creating distance when he said, “What are you doing here 007? You are in no state to deal with debriefing. You should be home, with the medication you need.” The quartermaster’s voice was hard and unforgiving, contradicting his body, which unsurprisingly reacted to the tempting omega in front of him.

Oh how very much Q wanted to fuck Bond right here and there. His very nature demanded from him to mount the omega, to ease his suffering and finally, finally claim him as his own. But they were in the MI6 headquarter. Behind closed doors of an office with glass walls, under the close surveillance of the members of his branch. And even when the omega’s biology might convince him otherwise, Q knew that Bond didn’t want to be claimed, couldn’t bear the thought be bonded to somebody so completely.

“I am tired of medication, tired of suppressing who I am Q.” James’ voice was desperate and only an inch away from begging. He had thought this through. For the five hour duration of the plane, during the taxi ride from the airport and with every step of his way down to Q-branch.

He was trembling so much that he could barely remain on his feet, had to cling to Q’s desk to keep himself upright. He felt like he could not tolerate his clothes any longer because they itched and restricted him and hurt his burning and oversensitive skin. But shedding them was not a possibility, not here, not now. But most of all he did not want to be alone any more. He was so tired of curling up on his bed, crouching into a corner, hiding from the world that thought of Omegas as worthless appendices of alphas. Or submerging himself in a bath of ice-cold water, just to make his body’s needs slightly bearable while being drugged out of his mind.

Stepping up to the alpha, he lost the fight and fell to his knees in front of the slender frame, looking up with desperate and pleading eyes. He wanted Q, no one but Q, and he was so very scared because he could not find the right words in his foggy mind, to persuade his alpha to take him, to ease this suffering and make him feel whole. This was it, Q was it for him and he searched for words to convey this message even when his body pulsed with need and want, ever since coming close to the alpha.

Q’s voice was laced with desire, but his words were dismissive when he shook his head and whispered, “I can’t. You don’t know what you were asking of me.”

Q was absolutely sure that, although his omega’s body cries out for him desperately, Bond still wasn’t ready for a bond. Not ready for this kind of commitment and Q knew without the shadow of doubt, that he would not be able to fuck his omega through a heat without putting his claim on him.

And Bond would accept it because his biology would override every conscious thought. But that would be a violation of everything they had achieved over these last few months. It would destroy the absolute trust his omega had placed in him. James was far better off with suppressants than with an alpha who could not control himself.

Lowering his head in defeat the agent collapsed in on himself, winding his arms around his middle to ease the cramps that twisted his abdomen; breathing hard to get cold air into his lungs, to cool down even the slightest fraction. He had tried, tried so very hard, offered himself without reservation, but still he was not good enough to be claimed now that he was finally willing.

The story of his life, rejection after rejection and with the heat burning through his body he had no self-control left. Tears started to leak from his eyes when the implication of the Q’s rejection made themselves known. The alpha could not tolerate him, could not tolerate him in this desperate state and was sending him away.

Obviously Q did not want to be bound to an omega like Bond for the rest of his life. And who could hold it against him? The agent knew was not an easy person to deal with in the first place, and as an omega, he has to be a nightmare.

He knew that he was constantly contradicting the alpha, challenged him constantly, bantering with him over the simplest things. Like it really mattered which morning newspaper they subscribed to.

Now Q had reached the end of his tether, unable to give any more. Bond wished, wished so desperately that he could promise this alpha to be better, to be more obedient, easier to deal with, anything that would get him a second chance, but they both knew it would be a lie. Q already knew him better than to think for a single moment that the agent could become pliant and submissive.

As soon as this heat was over, Bond would return to his strong-headed and resisting self, and there was nothing he could do about it and this knowledge tears him apart. He had fought against his very nature for so long, that he had lost the ability to give in when no fight was necessary.

Bond fought to get up again, prayed for the strength to get out of MI6 with a last shed of dignity intact, swaying slightly on his feet, whimpering when his pants brushed over his over-sensitive cock.

But before he could even turn around Bond suddenly found himself bent backwards by his alpha’s strong fingers that closed around his neck. He sobbed silently because the sudden contact felt so good. He felt so needy and the simple touch of this alpha was making his whole world better, just like he had hoped for ever since the plane ride.

Then suddenly, unexpectedly, he felt Q’s teeth on his neck, digging into the sensitive skin, marking him for the entire world to see and Bond could not help himself but reach for the alpha desperately. Q however held him down, obviously unwilling to deal with any more resistance and the agent gave in without hesitation. Forcefully the quartermaster demanded, “I will call a car for you.  You will go home and undress.  I will be with you shortly.”

 

~ 007 ~

 

As soon as Bond had left Q-branch, the quartermaster leaned heavily onto his desk. He had felt his omega’s anxiety and desperation down to his bones and no matter what he thought himself capable of, he owed Bond to try his best to get him through this heat. He did not know how he would be able to do this without claiming the omega, an omega whom he wanted with every fibre of his being, but he had to find a way.

Leaving Bond alone, forcing him to deal with his heat all by himself, destroying all the trust and faith they had built during these last months, simply was not an option. Grabbing a spare vial from his desk, Q drowned two suppressants with his last mouthful of tea, before informing Tanner that he would take the next two days off.

Nobody in Q-branch said anything when their quartermaster left in the middle of the day, following a wretched and seemingly sick agent. They just reroute calls and pick up assignments Q had been meant to handle, filled in for him to the best of their abilities. Nobody had ever had the slightest doubt that their branch-leader was an alpha with the corresponding instincts and abilities. Seeing 007 on his knees in front of him gave them a pretty good idea of the agent’s designation. Yet nobody mentioned it, for if those two were adamant about keeping their relationship ‘off the record’ they all would show themselves loyal to their branch-leader.

 

~ 007 ~

 

The ride back to Q’s flat was rather unpleasant for the agent. Thank god the driver was human and completely oblivious to Bond’s state. Once the man asked if Bond was about to get sick when he was drawing particularly deep breaths with his eyes closed, but when the agent simply shook his head he refrained from asking more questions.

Bond was barely able to make it into the lift and from there into the flat. It took him three tries to insert their current security code – Q had a rather obsessive tendency to change it at irregular intervals – before he collapsed on the sofa, burying his face in the pillows from Q’s side. After a few minutes of inhaling the scent of his alpha Bond felt the itching of his clothes become unbearable and remembered the alphas command. Without a conscious thought he started to claw on them, frantically trying to get them off because he could not bear them a second longer.

When he felt strong fingers covering his own, he choked down a sob of gratitude because Q was finally with him. The young man opened his jacket and shirt with swift hands and relieved Bond of his trousers. The omega basked in the smell and feeling of the alpha being so close.

Soon, he started to tear on Q’s own clothes desperately because all of a sudden being close was not nearly enough. A cool hand on his inflamed chest held him down, and Bond could not help himself as he trailed his eyes over the younger man’s body, which was losing articles of clothing as quickly as possible.

Not willing to spend another moment apart, Bond lay back against the couch to allure the alpha. He presented himself so that Q would have the chance to take him right there. The agent sobbed in relieve when the alpha finally buried himself in his burning body, up to his hilt.

For a few moments, Q simply kneeled in front of Bond, exerting as much self-control as he was able to, before starting to fuck the omega. Strong and intrusive strokes that Bond felt through his entire body, settled him on every possible level. His physical form drank in the alpha’s desire and emotions – as clouded as his brain might be – he revelled in the thought that Q has not abandoned him, had not cast him out like an old dog that was unable to learn any new tricks. A burden he had finally gotten tired of.

Reaching for the alpha, Bond tries to kiss, lick and nibble every patch of skin he could reach, until the man in front of him pushed him back and grabbed his cock as if it belonged to him.

Nearly lifting himself from the couch Bond bent his back to get as much contact as possible. The kisses, the teeth and the hands were nearly enough to satisfy him, nearly, but not completely. Something was missing, but Bond could not pinpoint it. The first orgasm courses through his system and batters down the first wave of heat more effectively than any medication ever could.

Grabbing his quartermaster, dragging the young man onto his lap as soon as they were separated, he buries himself in the lanky frame, hiding his face at Q’s neck while whispering, “Thank you.” over and over again.

Unable to suppress a smile at the unexpected gratitude in James voice, Q kisses his agent’s head and whispers gently, “You are welcome, but now let’s get you cleaned and into bed. We will be much more comfortable there.”

Q sighs silently in relief. This was hard but not unbearable for him. The desire to possess and to claim was there, but for now Q was able to restrain himself; maybe because of the suppressants he had taken. But for now this was a suitable solution, and a relaxing shower will definitely help to get them through the night, and maybe even the next day.

The alpha had never experienced a heat with an omega. So he had only theoretical knowledge of how long it could last. For all he knew, it depended on the degree of connection between the omega and his chosen partner; the frequency of intercourse as well as other circumstances such as physical and mental stress. Altogether a span between six and thirty-six hours was possible. Q prays for restraint for the whole time.

Their encounter in the shower was swift but satisfying, and they tumble into the bed not ten minutes later.

Bond was burning up again, but the frantic need has lessened a bit. While he still held on to the alpha, he was content with wrapping his hands around the slender torso with every thrust Q made. The omega was yearning for contact, but no matter what they were doing, something was missing and Bond ached for it.

Towering over Q, taking him with feverish need, Bond leaned over his alpha, brushed over his lips, opening himself up to be dominated. But while Q’s kisses were forceful and demanding, they were not enough, not nearly enough but in that very moment the older man simply was unable to determine what he needed.

Bond whimpered into the contact, unable to express his desire, incapable of pinpointing what was lacking. His voice was a desperate chant against his quartermaster’s lips when he whispered, “More … I need more … Q, please. Help me!”

Stilling both of them for a moment, drawing a low whine from the omega, Q caught Bond’s face with both hands and looked into the blue, burning eyes with so much regret, that the omega was sure that his heart would break. “I am sorry James. I am so sorry, but I can’t. I cannot give you more without claiming you. You have no idea how hard this is for me. I can barely hold myself in check.”

Bond sobs nearly hysterically when the young man’s words finally registered in his brain. Leaning down, enveloping his quartermaster in his strong arms, burying himself in the frame of his alpha, Bond was finally pleaded: “Then don’t, Q! Stop hold back. I want you. I NEED you!” And it was true. Bond knew it with every fibre of his being that this, that Q was right. Right for him, right to be his alpha, the only anchor he would need from now on.

This man would never hold him back, never chain him down and keep him from what he wanted to do with his life. Q would always be there, to protect him, in his ear, in his bed, everything would be better if this alpha laid his last claim on him. Never before in his life had Bond ever thought this to be possible but with Q it was: He wanted to belong to this man, heart, body and soul. His last remaining fear was if his quartermaster shared this sentiment.

Bond could not do more, could not open himself up any more, could not show himself any more willing than he already had. If Q denied him there was no other option. The agent knew that his pride would demand of him to leave, yet his heart was unable to even fathom that thought: not to see, hear and feel Q every single day in his life, and suddenly the omega felt cold. This young man literally held his life in his hands and Bond could not foretell what Q would do with it.

Completely taken aback by the revelation, Q pushed himself up, so that he could look into the heat-clouded and anxious eyes of his agent. His voice was serious, serious enough to penetrate the haze around Bond’s brain when he asked: “Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure, James? Once you are mine there is no turning back. Ever!”

As soon as Bond so much as nodded, he found himself switched to back in a heartbeat. With unexpected strength and desire, Q starts to fuck him in earnest; never before had the alpha taken over so completely. He has always held back, had always allowed Bond a certain degree of control in their lovemaking. But now, for the first time since they met, there was no leniency in Q’s motions. He took what was offered and held nothing back.

 

While his body dominated Bond’s, his gaze started digging into his very soul. Eyes wide open in wonder, unable to resist these wordless demands, James felt wall after wall he had built around himself, crumble under the penetrating stare. Q seems not only willing, but also able to look into his very soul.

Only too aware what the alpha might see; the oceans of blood the agent had filled, hundreds of deaths he was responsible for, worst of all M dying in his arms; Bond felt the overwhelming desire to hide his flaws, maybe even himself, from these terrifying eyes.

What if Q did not like what he saw?

What if he could not live with the man Bond had been before him?

What if his desires to care and protect evaporated under the weight of violence Bond has not only tolerated but committed in his lifetime?

A silent choke escaped his lips when he tried to break the contact, to hide himself away.

But obviously Q would have none of that. Enveloping his omega’s chin with strong fingers, holding him in place; Q’s words might have been spoken, but they did not register in Bond’s ears. They overwhelmed his mind, all-powerful and absolute, not leaving behind the slightest shadow of doubt, “No, James. No more hiding. Not from me. Open yourself up and accept what you are and me along with it.”

Unable to deny the alpha anything, Bond shuddered under this scrutinizing gaze and finally exhaled and surrendered. It was not as if he had had a true chance to resist in the first place.

Days, months, even years passed in his mind, too fast to recognize or to comprehend. Pictures resurface, snapshots of a past, some of them his own memories, some not, but all of them now belonged to him.

A familiar waiter, far too young, talking and laughing with a beautiful young girl. Anger and sadness accompanied the scene.

A gamekeeper, teaching him on how to use a gun for the very first time in his life. Dedication and pride swelled in his heart.

Skyfall, decades ago, intact and inhabited by the Bond family. No doubt about it being at home there, being loved and protected.

Skyfall, burning only a few months ago. Desperation and pain overwhelmed him along with the picture.

Moira with an adored figure crouching beside her. An overwhelming feeling of pride and love when the man with the amazing blue eyes, finally turned around, revealing that he had understood what he was supposed to learn.

It was that feeling of love that kept Bond elevated throughout their entire contact. Never before had he felt so much affection towards his own person, not since his mother had died such a long time ago.

The orgasm that coursed through them, amplified through their newly forged bond left both man breathless and shaking.

Bond could not help but hold on to Q with everything he had. He buried himself in the scent and the feeling of the alpha, tears leaking from his eyes, because he had never felt so loved and cherished in his entire life. Had never imagined anything like this to ever be possible and in that very moment Bond made the silent vow, to do everything in his power to prove his gratitude and his worth for this alpha as long as he lived.

 

~ 007 ~

 

After long minutes of silence, where they both savour the new and unpredicted feelings, Bond felt the need to say something, anything to let Q know how grateful he was for being claimed. That Q had put up with him all along, helped him even after he had gotten over M’s death, although he has had no benefit from doing so. Accepting him in his flat, in his life, even when Bond had not even tried to change a single one of his accustomed behaviours, in regards of living with another person.

His voice, his feelings were raw when he finally started, “Q, I …”

It was the silent laugh, not from amusement, but from adoration, that stopped his frantic search for words. Words that – no matter what he said – would never be able to even remotely express his gratitude.

Easing his grip on Q when the alpha indicated that he wanted them to be separated, Bond reverently looked into a pair of warm, brown eyes, closing his own when Q leans over to brush his lips over Bond’s forehead with a heart-breakingly familiar and adoring gesture, before assuring softly, “I know, James. I know.”

Realizing that he truly did, Bond closes his eyes with relief before he crawled over his alpha and placed his head over Q’s heart and finally relaxed against the smaller frame.

Trailing his slender fingers over his omega’s, _his omega’s!_ neck in a loving gesture, Q grabbed the thin bed sheet to cover their sticky bodies.

Bond’s heat was far from over, but their bonding would allow them a few hours of rest, before Bond’s biology would demand to be satisfied once again. Feeling entirely up to it now Q mussed through the other man’s hair affectionately.

Never before in his life had Q been so thoroughly happy, felt so completely whole. Pondering over the connections one could form over a “bloody big ship”, he closed his eyes in perfect bliss, drifting off into a content sleep.

 

~ 007 ~

 


	8. You must be joking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birds, bees and butterflies and a fluffy, happy ending? Not really!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To each and every one of my beloved readers: A very, happy new year!!!

The heat dragged on until the evening of the next day. When Bond finally fell into a deep and restful sleep, Q went to the bathroom to take a very long and relaxing shower. He couldn’t stop grinning when he thought about the last 36 hours. James had accepting him, opened up to him, it was like a long forgotten dream finally coming true. Even though the young man tried to explain the events, maybe to someone like Moira who would genuinely happy for him, yet for the first time in his life he felt himself at a loss for words. He was a genius, he knew that, but he had never felt any special pride in this fact. He was born this way; it was no achievement.

Bond … James however, he had done all by himself. He had made the omega trust him, open up to him and finally accept a bond that had to be unthinkable for the man to begin with. His sleeping mind was soothing at the back of Q’s own, and he relaxed under the warm spray, letting the connection and the needs of the older man wash over him. It was enough; sharing these feelings had to be enough, because Q knew, that James would never be able to voice them. But it didn’t matter, knowing was sufficient.

After dressing in an old pair of sweatpants, that fit a little better than the newer ones, and a long shirt under his cardigan, he retreated to the kitchen to prepare himself a cup of tea. Hearing his stomach grumble he browsed through the flyers in his drawer, choosing an Italian restaurant. Carbs would help, especially because he hadn’t eaten anything substantial during the last few days. Bread, salad and pasta would be great, lots of calories without the need to work them off. Ordering enough for at least three people, Q lounged on the sofa in the living room going over the reports of Q-branch from the last three days.

 

~ 007 ~

 

He was tired, so incredibly tired and overjoyed at the same time. Wishing to bask in the feeling a little, Bond battered away any random thoughts about the source of his current mood, he just wanted to enjoy it until the world took over again. But when he heard silent noises in the flat, reality caught up with him.

The bonding!

The alpha!

HIS alpha!

Q!!!

Terribly scared for a heartbeat that everything had just been a dream, Bond stumbled out of bed and was forced to hold himself upright on the door-frame when he staggered towards the living room. Finding Q with his arms full of delicious smelling take-away, he was overwhelmed by the brilliant smile and the profound feeling of joy that washed over him.

Q’s voice was delighted when he said, “Go on, put some trousers on, I have ordered dinner. When you are awake we’ll get some food in you.” Placing the boxes and cartons on the table, he turned towards his omega once more and took in the unmoving figure before adding with a smile “On second thought, forget about the trousers and come as you are.”

Amused by the flirty and carefree voice of his quartermaster, two notions Bond had yet to experience, he followed the suggestion and stepped up to Q. Winding his arms around the younger man and rubbing his nose against the sensitive skin below Q’s ear, he felt the man shiver against him and whispered seductively, “Do you really think, that that would help my ingestion?”

“It is worth a try.” was the hoarse answer, so Bond let himself fall on the couch and dragged Q down with him. Placing the young man on his lap, he smiled triumphantly. Q’s laugh was brilliant and breath-taking, but after a moment, the quartermaster fought his way up again, only to retrieve some cutlery from the kitchen. Reclaiming his place on Bond’s lap, they both started eating, and after the first few bites, the omega realized how hungry he really was.

Halfway through their meal they paused for a moment and looked at each other. There were no words to express their feelings because a language made by humans could never cover the overwhelming feelings that would came up when two souls touched.

So Bond only took Q’s hand and placed a small kiss on his alpha’s knuckles and said, “Thank you.”

“No James, thank you, for giving this a chance.” Q leaned in so that their foreheads touched, and Bond felt the overwhelming relief and joy and gratitude flowing through the bond. He had wanted this, needed this, but now for the first time it occurred to him, that it had not been that different for Q.

An alpha was meant to care for somebody, featured a genetic predisposition to have another person by his side that would allow that and grant him access to all of his or her life. That was a huge demand and an even greater responsibility. But Q had never shied away from it, he had done it time and time again in the past, still did it, for every agent he handled during an assignment.

But while they all accepted his protection, nobody ever gave him anything in return, their complete trust, their unwavering loyalty. So the truth was, this bond was as much a gift for Q as it was for James, and that made the agent even happier because he was able to give his alpha something no one, in this whole world, had ever been give him: his absolute trust.

 

~ 007 ~

 

They drew out the next day languidly; catching up with some much needed sleep.

When they returned to work on Monday, Q accepted Bond’s offer to drive him. In front of the MI6 parking lot, Q stopped his agent for a moment, right in front of the door. When he leaned over he saw a tiny smile on Bond’s face as Bond stated, “There are cameras all over the place. There are few placed in MI6, which are better guarded than our entrances. Everyone will see.”

With an amused laugh, Q answered: “I’m counting on that.”

A raised eyebrow compelled Q to explain, “Well it would be rather unprofessional to kiss you at work, don’t you think? But even more so to eradicate every person from the face of the earth that dares to touch you in there. So you see, it will be much safer for everybody at MI6 if we kiss right here and now, spreading the word of our relationship without having to talk about it.”

Laughing Bond asked, “Do you really think you could obliterate everybody who comes my way?”

Smiling Q suggested, “I DO know a few agents. I am sure I could compel one or two of them to help me.”

Understanding completely, Bond nodded seriously, “Of course. So I take it, it’s a matter of internal security to kiss you now and save us all the trouble.”

With a triumphant smile, Q allowed Bond to drag him over with a strong but gentle hand, and they snogged the hell out of each other. After a few minutes, when someone finally approached and honked his horn because of the delay, they were breathing hard, but smiling like lunatics.

Fighting very hard for composure, Bond and Q didn’t dare to look at each other during their elevator-ride towards Q-branch. Before Q entered he turned around and said in his calm voice, “Oh, 007, please be ready in about an hour.”

“For what?” Bond didn’t have any assignments at hand so the request was rather confusing.

With slightly raised eyebrows and a suppressed smile that made his eyes sparkle in mischief, Q said, “For M of course. Do you think that he will let it slide that you kissed your quartermaster for a solid five minutes in front of the gate?”

Bond groaned when he realized that Q was absolutely right. There was no way that the leader of MI6 would think anything else, except that Bond had seduced Q. Considering that relations between colleagues were not appreciated, he was in for a hell of a lecture. It only pacified him a little when Q winked, before entering Q-branch.

Bond’s voice was a silent growl when he murmured: “You so owe me for that Q.”

 

~ 007 ~

 

When Q entered the main control-room he heard silent murmurs and even caught a glimpse of the video feed he and Bond had posed for. But when the noise increased instead of dying down when he started his work, he sighed silently, and gave up. Turning around, addressing his minions he asked in a composed voice, “Does anybody have anything useful to add to the situation?”

One of his minions reluctantly raised his hand and asked nervously, “Does this mean that Bond will spend more time here?”

With raised eyebrows because he had not thought about this, Q answered, “I assume that is a possibility.”

With eagerness the questioning continued, “Do you think we can book him for some weapons testing? That would help tremendously!”

Laughing and shaking his head over the actually quite practical question, the quartermaster stated: “James Bond is a Double-Oh. Not a lab-rat. You would do very good to remember that.”

When a female minion raised her hand, he looked at her invitingly, only to hear the rather cheeky question, “So, I guess flirting with him is out of bounds now?”

With that question, Q fell back into full alpha mode. He stood straighter, towered over each and every member of his branch, looked each one in the eye before declaring in a very low tone, “If you want to work in a country where the technical equipment is more evolved than a calculator then yes, I very much would advise against flirting with 007.” before turning around to his work again.

The whispers died down after that, and everyone returned to his or her work. Q had stated a claim and cemented it with the worst threat imaginable for an engineer or programmer. None of them, not a single one, had the slightest doubt that their quartermaster had not only the means but the mind, to go through with this threat.

 

~ 007 ~

 

“Normality” was a term that strangely did fit the shouting contest that currently took place in M’s office.

“What were you thinking Bond? You have access to every man and woman on this god forsaken planet, why did it have to be our quartermaster?” M’s voice filled the office and nearly gave Bond a headache.

But the agent held his ground and simply shouted back, “But I don’t want every damn man or woman on this planet. I want Q! And Q want’s me. So there is nothing you can do about it!”

M’s voice lowered dangerously as he stated, “Don’t overestimate yourself Bond. I can send you to the end of the earth, and hold you there until our quartermaster is over you before this gets out of hand. He is not one of your conquests. You can’t just use him and then leave him behind with a broken heart when you have had enough. He is a brilliant young man, our future defence in cyber terrorism! We can’t afford to lose him! Stop thinking with your cock and think about your country!”

 

“Don’t I have a say in the matter?” Q’s calm voice suddenly filled the office. He had watched the two strong-headed men for a few minutes, before deciding to come to his omega’s rescue. Not because he thought that Bond needed it. The agent had always been able to hold his ground against the leader of MI6, but because he didn’t want to be painted a fool or a child that didn’t know what he was getting himself into. Showing foresight he had asked Tanner to accompany him. The quartermaster was quite sure that Tanner knew about both of their designations, he was the Chief of Staff after all. So now, both of them stood in the doorway facing the Double-Oh and Mallory.

“Q, you haven’t know him as long as we have. You have no idea what you are getting yourself into!” Mallory’s voice was placating as he walked around his desk, addressing his quartermaster directly. Looking at Tanner, Q refrained from commenting on that incredibly patronizing and slightly insulting suggestion.

MI6’s Chief of Staff looked first at Bond, then at Q before examining the agent again. Tanner evaluated the situation for a few moments before turning towards his superior. In a dispassionate voice he declared, “I doubt that we can change Bond and Q’s current involvement. As long as it doesn’t influence their work, it is of no consequence what they do outside of it.”

M directed an angry glare at his Chief of Staff before retreating to his desk. He addressed both the agent and the quartermaster and stated, “If one of you so much as steps a toe out of line, I will have his head and find a workplace in Siberia for him. And rest assured, it will be far away from any human settlement or technological junction!” before throwing all three of them out of his office, so that he could return to his work.

Back in the corridor, Q looked at Tanner and bowed his head in gratitude. With a small smile towards the agent and the quartermaster, Tanner returned the gesture, before returning to his office.

 

~ 007 ~

 

“I would have been able to handle him on my own, you know?” Bond’s voice was serious but not overly emotional when he addressed Q during their elevator-ride back to Q-branch.

Q stated with a cool voice, “I know 007. But I am not a child that needs protection from the infamous James Bond. And I will not have Mallory think of me that way. I am absolutely able to handle you on my own.”

With a tender smile, the agent looked at his quartermaster before saying silently, “That you are Q, without any doubt.”

When they entered Q-branch, the quartermaster returned to his work and the agent looked around for a moment. There was a tense silence, as if the minions didn’t know how to deal with him.

After a minute, one of them coughed discreetly and asked, “Would it be terribly imposing if I asked for your insight on some weapons-prototypes we are developing at the moment?”

Bond couldn’t help himself but grin at his quartermaster’s silent groan before turning towards the minion in question with a brilliant smile before affirming, “Absolutely not. I am very interested in supporting you in any possible way, especially when it comes to weapons and explosives.”

The old Q had enjoyed showing of his weapons in various stages of development. But the new quartermaster liked to keep things a secret until they were ready for fieldwork.

 

Q wanted to hit his monitor with his head. Repeatedly! But the delighted face of his minion, and an almost comical puppy-eyed look from the agent forced him to growl, “Buzz off the both of you. Some of us have work to do.”

 

~ 007 ~

 

When they finally drove home, nearly eight hours later, Bond was rubbing his temples slightly. He had enjoyed himself immensely. Q-branch was a never-ending source of brilliant ideas and ingenious developments. But over the course of the afternoon, a slight headache had made itself known, and Bond seemed to be unable to shake it off. Q’s furious tapping away on his tablet indicated that he was still in work-mode. So, the agent stopped in front of a diner, to get some take-away for dinner. Neither of them were in the mood to cook tonight.

When they settled on the couch an hour later, Bond finally was able to separate the young man from his beloved computer, and with his head buried in Q’s lap, Q’s long fingers carding through his strands, his headache lessened and he was able to enjoy the evening.

 

~ 007 ~

 

 


	9. Firewalls and Bullet Proof Wests – Part One: Firewalls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really don't think that everything is flowers and sunshine when you have the emotions and maybe even the thoughts of another person inside of your head.  
> Especially not when that person is a multitasking genius that works in a surrounding where he is expected to handle agents, gather information and find solutions to problems no person in heaven and earth had ever thought about. And I very much assume that Double-Oh agents make quite extraordinary problem-creators.

The pattern repeated itself over the next few days until Bond received another assignment. It was an easy one, not even worth mentioning.

He went in, tracked down a target and killed it, a personal statement instead of a random killing. He felt no remorse, had no doubts until he came back to England, was back in Q’s arms and tremendously grateful that nothing had changed. He was still a Double-Oh agent, trained to kill and that didn’t seem to bother his alpha in the slightest.

At home however, the headaches returned with a vengeance.

No matter what Bond did, if he was training in the shooting range, jogging through the nearby park or meeting with Tanner, there was a constant, nagging headache in the back of his mind, and it started to drive him crazy. It became bearable, not really better but easier to deal with, when he was with Q in the evenings. The quartermaster was distracted by a current project, but as soon as they were together on the couch the pain lessened.

After nearly a week, Bond wasn’t able to get up after a hit to his head during a training sequence with 003, so he was dragged to the infirmary. Naturally Q was with him within minutes.

The agent felt slightly annoyed at being scrutinized, but still was grateful not to be alone, when the doctors started to discuss injuries, diseases and even tumours that would have caused his breakdown. They ran test after test and at the end of the day he felt ready to be flushed down the toilet. For the first time in his life, Bond was willing to allow someone else to drive his car. Luckily Q was handling it in the same manner he handled all technology, with utter reverence and care.

Looking over to James, Q was pale and worried. Just because the doctors weren‘t able to find anything, didn‘t mean that there was nothing there. Absent-minded he asked, “When did it start?“

Bond was too tired to think clearly so he just mumbled, “Bout two weeks ago …“ while looking out of the window.

He didn‘t see the look his alpha threw him at that revelation, the dread in Q’s eyes.

Twelve days, exactly twelve days ago they had bonded, and apart from the mission in Monaco, he and Bond had been around each other all the time. A terrible suspicion raised its ugly head.

Q himself had also realized a change in his physical condition, but instead of getting tired and aching he felt elevated through his days. His heart was beating faster, his adrenaline count seemed to be higher than usual, and he had been able to finish at least two projects in half the time they would usually take.

Pale and dreading he looked over to his omega and made a decision. Typing in a familiar number he had never bothered to write down, the connection was made almost instantly. His tone was laced with worry and fear when he simply stated: “Moira, I need you. Are you available tonight?“

The answer was instantaneous: “I will make myself available. Pick me up in half an hour.“

Tired beyond anything, Bond turned his head and looked at Q with bloodshot eyes. His voice was a slow drawl when he stated: “Q I really don‘t feel up for an evening of social interaction. Why did you invite her?“

Gripping the steering wheel a little harder, speeding up noticeably, Q refused to look at James: “Because she is the only person I know that has any experience with bonding.“

“This is not because of the bond. That‘s ridiculous, Q!” Bond simply refused to believe anything bad could come from their connection. No matter his headaches, he had never felt so loved and cherished in his whole life. He wouldn‘t let anything taint this for him. Not when he had finally found it. But Q didn‘t answer, so the agent returned to staring out into rainy London.

Bond remained at the flat when Q left to pick up Moira. It was a risk, and they both knew it. Letting an ‘outsider’ into their lives, but it didn‘t matter now. Bond was more important, more important than security, more important than keeping a secret and - as horrible as Q felt about it - more important than Moira whom he painted a target on, simply by bringing her in.

She didn‘t seem amazed that Q lived so close by, nor did she comment on the state of the art security system. She allowed herself a swift look, but instantly zoned in on James, who dozed on the couch, huddled into a corner, with his forehead creased with stress lines.

Q was horribly nervous but still tried to be a polite host: “Can I get you something Moira? Tea? A glass of wine maybe?“

But Moira didn’t give a rat‘s ass about politeness and hospitality. Her voice was sharp and commanding when she relieved herself of her coat before sitting down next to Bond and taking his hand between hers. “No, but you can tell me what the hell is going on here and why James looks like a corpse warmed up.“

“You have said more flattering things about me in the past darling.“ looking at her, Bond adopted the gentle teasing and flirting voice Q did with the other alpha, and it usually felt good, but today, through the throbbing headache, he couldn‘t even bring himself to smile. Nevertheless, her gentle hands were warm and comfortable, so he tenderly rubbed his calloused fingers, over her worn skin, looking at her with tired but friendly eyes.

Q watched the scene from behind the couch. He clenched and unclenched his hands, folded and unfolded his arms at irregular intervals, while looking at his omega with so much desperation, that Bond’s heart threatened to break. Finally, unable to resist any longer, he stepped up to them and started to scratch James‘s neck ever so gently. Instantly the agent smiled up at his alpha and nuzzled into his arm. Q’s entire focus was now on the omega as he explained:

“James said the headaches had started with our bonding. And I noticed some changes about myself.“

Bond looked up in anger because of Q’s determination to pinpoint his headaches on their bonding, as well as surprise, Q had never mentioned any physical changes, but didn‘t interrupt his alpha when he continued: “I felt, elevated. More alive. I was thriving because of our union. I worked better, felt better. Like I could run a mile a minute and it felt so good. All the while James …” Q looked down and Bond couldn‘t help to reach up and cup his face.

The alpha looked close to tears now and the omega was unable to resist the desire to comfort him, no matter how horrible he felt.

Q continued in a mere whisper while holding on to his omega’s hand as if he drew strength from it, which he most likely did, “All the while James got headaches right from the beginning. It was better when he was … abroad for a short time. But ever since his return to England, to me, everything has gone downhill.“

“This is not because of us!“ James’ voice became rather forceful. The headache had lessened somehow, ever since Q concentrated his unwavering attention on him. But he would not allow his alpha to beat himself up over this. Q was the first, the only person in this whole world that had ever taken him just like he was, without trying to change him - well apart from making him buy tea and sugar now and then, even though he didn’t use either.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Moira watched the scene calmly and without prejudice. She saw the alpha’s love and fear for his omega, the mere thought that he might be ‘bad’ for him, was nearly more than the young man could take, and no matter what he was willing to revealing about himself, Moira had always known that her Quentin had a core of steel.

She saw the omega reaching for his alpha without reservation, drawing comfort from his presence, his touch. An open gesture like that would have been impossible only a month ago. Although James had gravitated towards Quentin, he had never allowed himself to give in to his impulses so easily.

She saw the pain in both of their eyes. Because the mere thought that their special connection would cause their respective partner any pain, was more than they could bear.

Though, Moira suspected the truth. So, without letting go of James’ hand, she turned to Quentin and suggested in a comforting voice, “Quentin, please make yourself a cup of tea and then leave James and me alone for a little while. Go to your bedroom and play with your computers.“

That she sounded like a berating mother, towards an unruly child remained unmentioned when Q complied. He had asked for her help, so he would do anything she asked of him, anything to make James better. And Q had to hope that she would be able to, because he was at the end of his tether.

As soon as Q had left, after brushing his soft lips over his omega’s forehead one last time and had closed his bedroom door behind himself, Moira watched James silently.

His pain had lessened somehow since they had arrived. Now he looked at her, with the eyes of a wise, old man, who had seen far too much, with so much faith and desperation that she gripped his hand tighter for a moment and gently brushed her fingers over his cheek. Gesturing towards the door she asked: “What is he doing?“

Bond reached for the main controller for their security system and brought up the camera-feed from the bedroom. For now Q remained unseen, that could mean only one thing, “He is sitting on the bed, drinking the tea.“

“How do you feel?“

“It‘s bearable.“

A calm question and a non-answer. James didn‘t give the impression of someone unaccustomed to pain. She had seen faint scars over the last months, but she never mentioned them. Just like she didn‘t comment on the state of the art security system or the camera in the bedroom. It was unlikely that it was the only one.

Moira observed thorough and she understood even better. She knew that there were sometimes things better left unmentioned. For example, why Quentin‘s boyfriend, the self-proclaimed economics engineer, was carrying a handgun in a concealed holster under his jacket.

For a while they both sat next to each other content and quiet. Bond was on his way to dozing off again. But Moira was watching, waiting. It didn‘t take long. Q was far too agitated to sit still, and after only half an hour he brought his computer system online and starts working again, most likely to take his mind of his worry for his omega that would drive him crazy otherwise.

The elderly woman returned her attention to James. The longer the alpha worked the more pain seemed to well up in his omega’s head.

When he finally opened his eyes with a moan he looked confused at the woman who observed him intently.

“What?“

James voice was pain-laced and confused. Moira had to raise her voice ever so slightly when requesting, “Quentin, would you come back please?“

Q reappeared from the bedroom almost immediately. His confusion mirrored James’, but he just switched off the video-feed from the bedroom, before sitting down on the coffee table in front of his friends. Reaching for James’ other hand he looked at Moira intently when she finally stated, “I am sorry you two. But Quentin was right, he IS doing this to you James, or rather his brilliant mind is.“

Q‘s shoulders slumped in defeat, and he hung his head. Bond however raised himself from the couch, seeking more contact with his alpha, taking his hand in his own and rubbing them soothingly. A sharp spike of pain and desperation laced through him and the agent looked at Moira rather angrily when he exclaimed: “That‘s not true! Q is the best thing that has happened to me in my whole life. He’s not making me sick!“

It might be a lie, it might be true, but for now it was simply a blunt refusal of the foreign alpha’s words. He held on to his quartermaster so strongly, as if the young man was about to be taken away from him in a moment’s notice.

 

Moira however, probably oblivious to what kinds of horrors an angry Double-Oh agent could unleash upon her, ignored these protests and lightly tapped Q‘s knee to get his attention. Her question was quiet yet inquisitive when she asked, “How do you block him out?“

Looking to James rather confusedly, Q answered almost instinctively: “I raise a firewall, but how is this relevant right now?“

Moira smiled ever so slightly at this answer, knowing she was on the right track. She continued her questioning. “I realize you have a slight bruise at your hairline. How come?“

“I, … ahm … I stumbled today and hit my head on the counter.“ Q was still confused by this line of inquiry. He remembered the sharp pain at the side of his head that seemed to come out of nowhere. When he had staggered and fell as a reaction to it, he had hit his head on his working desk. Everyone in Q branch had panicked because of it, but after a brief visit to the infirmary, and being assured that it was nothing, he had planned to return to his branch.

Yet when he had heard that Bond was there because of a training-accident, everything had been forgotten. Now the memories returned, but they still didn‘t make any sense.

“You hit your head? Why didn’t you say anything Q?” James was upon him in an instant. His strong fingers brushed over Q’s hairline and checked the slight swelling and discoloration there. Bond’s mind was racing a mile a minute, his headache forgotten for now. “What happened, Q? What was the source of the pain that made you stagger?”

Q turned his head away. Unwilling to let the conversation derail from his omega’s serious problem, towards an inconvenience he had suffered in the afternoon.

Moira’s voice surprised them both when she asked, “Why did you go to the infirmary. I always thought you a man that had to be sent to a hospital in chains than going there willingly.”

It was true, she had figured James out far better than the agent and his quartermaster would’ve wish for. So James sat down again, keeping a close eye on Q before saying with a slightly irritated voice, “I.” He paused.

“I had an accident during training. Beth, a colleague hit me on the head and I wasn’t able to get up again.”

They both looked at each other as understanding dawned.

“We feel each other’s pain.”

“We feel each other’s thoughts?”

Completely dumbfounded, they both looked at Moira after that realization.

The alpha chuckled because for the first time ever, she saw her beloved Quentin absolutely at lost. She took both of their hands squeezing them gently. “You two will have to find a way to block each other out. A bond can be a marvellous gift, but also a tremendous burden. You will have to learn to deal with it.

Quentin, if you can’t find a way to block James physical reactions, your body will give up sooner or later. It’s not made for twice the amount of physical stress you would have to handle otherwise.

And you James, I know Quentin’s mind goes a mile a minute. Therefore, the same rules apply to you. Your mind can’t deal with the extensive amount of cognitive stress. You have to find a way to block him out to be able to continue your work.”

Both men looked at each other in confusion. They voiced the same question at the same time, “How do you know?”

Moira smiled and stood up, brushing a tender kiss both over Q and James’ foreheads, before picking up her coat. Her voice was soft and gentle when she said: “I would be of no use to you if I didn’t have a little more experience in these matters than you two. You know now what the problem is. Work on a solution. I have complete faith in you.”

And with that she left, left the flat and the building, and Q and James looked at each other in bewilderment.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Another week passed, and now and then James had been able to block Q out for a few hours. Luckily his alpha tried to calm his mind, and when he was not handling an agent, something that always needed his undivided attention; the pain behind Bond’s eyes was bearable. He got a little cranky.

When returning from another three-day mission, he retreated to soothing his anger and pain with alcohol once again.

Q saw, but didn’t comment. They lay in each other’s arms, but Bond was just grateful for a few hours of painless sleep, not motivated to start anything.

Q drew back more and more. The idea that he was causing his agent physical pain was unbearable for him. He had learned to shut down unwanted external stimuli at a very young age. Being a gifted programmer and a student living in a dorm on campus, there were times upon times when he couldn’t find a silent place to work or play. So he learned to block them out.

A ‘firewall’ protected a computer system from harm. As a child his imagination had drawn up an according image – a flaming wall that burned everything that threatened to pass – to block himself from the outside world. It had worked great for him ever since. During training lessons, he blocked Bond completely, although it took a significant amount of concentration, he was able to manage. Therefore he didn’t feel the hits any more, nor the pain from overstretched limbs or overworked muscles.

 

For the Double-Oh however, it got worse and worse. He couldn’t really operate with the picture of a “firewall”. Although theoretically aware of how it should work, it did little to block the constant buzzing in the back of his mind. Unable to accept another mission while he was so distracted by “headaches” – the only acceptable explanation for M, because there was no way he would tell Mallory about his designation – he started to sulk in headquarters and at home.

For a few days Q just took care of him, feeling tremendously guilty because he was the source of this problem. He tried to shield himself to the best of his abilities when he was home. He prepared breakfast and dinner and dragged his agent towards the bed when he had passed out on the couch yet again. When he woke another morning to an empty bed, he simply sighed in defeat and started his day alone.

He took a shower and prepared a plate of scrambled eggs before approaching his omega who clung to an empty tumbler even in his sleep. Shaking him slightly at the shoulder, he offered the meal. When Bond brushed him off, he sat down on the coffee table. His voice was quiet but disappointed when he offered, “If you need help I can take a few days off you know? I can work with you on the image, on the block. You don’t have to do this alone James.” He reached for his omega and was confused when the older man drew back.

That offer however, seemed to be exactly the wrong thing to do, because when Bond got up he positioned himself directly in front of Q, towering over the sitting man. His voice was laced with pain, tiredness and no small amount of anguish when he accused: “And what good would that do? That you can prove you are able to control even my mind when you are around instead of just my body, oh mighty alpha?”

Rising Q looked at his omega with irritation. “James, what is wrong with you? This is not about control. It is about helping you to get through this.”

“Get through this?” Bond raised his voice in obvious fury. He started to prowl through the living room and looked at Q in anger. “You have no bloody clue what I am going through because of your fucking mind!”

James voice got louder and louder until he was shouting: “Can’t you relax for one bloody minute? All you do is think and it drives me crazy!”

Whipping around, Bond was so worked up in his anger that he finally threw the tumbler, towards the wall behind Q when he shouted: “Don’t patronize me Q! I’m not a child!”

The moment the glass hit the wall, Bond realized that he had made a mistake.

Not because Q’s face mirrored his anger.

Not because Q looked at him with fear or disappointment at the outburst.

He realized his mistake because he could literally see his alpha shutting down.

All emotions drained from his face and his posture. He rose from the coffee table, turned around to pick up his bag and stated in a calm and dispassionate voice that froze James to his very bones: “I am very sorry that my mind is such an inconvenience to you. I thought we had something beyond the physical interaction, but obviously I was wrong. So do us both a favour and refrain from touching me from now on. Have a good day 007.”

Bond halted, stood transfixed in the middle of their living room and watched Q leave the flat.

The instance the door closed behind the quartermaster, he became aware that the white noise that had driven him crazy for the last two weeks had stopped. What remained was a slight dizziness and a void inside of his mind that threatened to swallow his very heart.

 

He had shouted at his alpha, accused him of horrible things. Q had taken everything Bond had thrown at him when he was agitated or in pain without any retribution. But today had obviously been the last straw, and he had cut the connection. Letting out a shaking breath, the omega sank down on the couch, watching his trembling hands while his mind tried to make sense of everything.

Why had he shouted at Q?

Why had he blamed the alpha for his own shortcomings?

It was not Q’s fault, that he was not able to shield his mind. But after endless days of constant headaches and no chance for a coherent thought, Bond had been at the end of his tether. And the resulting reaction had cost him everything, everything that had ever really mattered.

He didn’t dare to go after Q. His alpha’s … the alpha’s reactions had made it clear that he did not wish for any kind of contact with him.

Bond should go and relieve his quartermaster from the burden that he was.

But the thought of leaving the flat – the only real home he had known since Skyfall, the only place where he felt welcomed and loved – was unbearable.

So he sat there, agonized, shaking, watching the scrambled eggs Q had prepared for him getting cold, and wishing desperately for the pain to return because that would mean that Q was still with him. That they still shared a connection and that James was not alone. But it looked like he had done it again: he had lost the only person that had ever made him feel alive.

 

~ 007 ~

 


	10. Firewalls and Bullet Proof Vests – Part Two: Bullet Proof Vests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something more substantial than a firewall for our beloved agent does the trick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are half way through now and I would like to take the opportunity to once again thank my betareader Amanda, who had taken it upon herself to go over my story and make it all better. I hope you enjoy the improved version as much as I do.

When Q left his flat, he needed every last bit of his concentration to block James. The pain of his omega has washed over him this morning, with every shout, every accusation and last but not least with the glass that had been. James could not do this, could not meet him halfway, so he had to be strong for the both of them. Q was trembling and forcefully suppressed the tears that threatened to well up in his eyes. How had this happened? They had been so content with each other, to be not alone for the first time in their lives. To have found their other halves, the part that had been missing all through their lives.

Q snickered when he leaned against the wall of his apartment building. It had been too easy, for both of them. He should have known that something was about to happen. Never, in all his life, had anything ever been easy for him, and the same was true for James. They would have to fight for this, for their bond to work, but from opposite sides, or so it seemed. The problem was, Q did not know if he was going to be strong enough to do this, to block James so completely that his agent got the chance to build up his resistance unhindered by his thoughts. It has taken a fathomless amount of emotional and cognitive energy to raise these tight shields in the first place. The slightest disturbance would make them crumble.

Q could feel his agent’s desperate attempt to reach him. He was aware that the faint nudge he felt outside of his shields was the anxious attempt of his omega to establish a connection once again. But if he allowed that, if he allowed James inside of his head again, he was not sure that he would be able to raise the blockage so completely once more. Only Bond’s desperate lashing out had made it possible in the first place. It was a situation that could not be recreated.

Shaking and unstable because so much of his concentration was bound on holding up the shield, Q passed the Book-Worm but did not look in. Only when Moira stepped in his way, gently touching his chin to make him look up, did Q become aware of his surroundings. He offered no resistance when the elderly woman tugged him inside, nor when she dragged him towards their favourite table. She looked at him with concern, but simply held his hands for a long time to give him a chance to collect himself. When Q’s tension eased a little she asked in a whisper, “Q, what’s wrong?”

Too wrapped up in his own mind to notice the wrong/right addressing, Q simply shook his head, before slumping against her. He allowed being held once again, allowed the other alpha’s strength to seep into him, before he finally found the courage to admit, “I hurt him Moira. He is not able to erect a barrier and it drives him crazy. He shouted at me today. He is in so much pain that I … I …”

Nearly unable to continue his terrible revelation he drew a deep breath before finally admitting quietly, “I shut myself down completely, raised a shield to block him out entirely. I can’t feel him anymore, and I can’t help him, and I don’t know what to do!”

Brushing gently through Q’s messy hair Moira smiled at his head and assured him, “You will do whatever is necessary. You will give him as much time as he needs to learn to protect himself. Even when he is limited now by everything that had happened, he is a smart man, so he knows that he can’t leave the shielding to you at all times.”

Looking up in fear, the young man whispered, “What if I am not strong enough? What if I can’t sustain it sufficiently, overwhelm him once again and hurt him all the more?”

Without any doubt, the other alpha grabbed his shoulders and held on to the young man before confirming, “Of course you are strong enough.”

“How can you be so sure?” Q’s voice was not that of the confident quartermaster who was accustomed to leading Double-Oh-agents through firefights and hostile situations. He sounded like a child that was in desperate need of assurance.

And Moira was willing to give him that. Touching his cheek, she comforted him tenderly, “Because it is James. Whatever he needs, you are strong enough to provide it because he is yours! Yours to love and yours to care for, that’s how it’s supposed to be and if you think past your fear for a moment Q, you will realize it! Whatever James needs, you will give it to him. Your designation won’t allow for anything less.”

It was their nature after all, so Q knew it had to be true. Looking at Moira for a few moments he simply nodded and rose. Embracing each other, the woman equipped Q with a sandwich, a pastry and a cup of tea, before sending him on his way.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Two, horribly desperate and lonely days passed before Q returned to the flat when Bond was awake. For the past two days the agent had been well aware that Q had slept there, but came in long after midnight and rose before six so that he would not come across his omega. But when his quartermaster finally staggered into the flat Bond couldn’t help but approach him. Q’s tired and bloodshed eyes however made it clear, that he was not in the mood to discuss things. When the agent stepped up to him nevertheless, Q simply sidestepped around the taller man, so that they would not touch, ignoring him otherwise.

This evasion hurt even more than a shouting or a physical blow. A tiny part of Bond’s mind had clung to the hope that they would be able to deal with this. But Q’s instinctual dismissing seemed to make that impossible. As much as he wanted to apologize, how was he supposed to do that when Q wasn’t even willing to listen? How could he convince his alpha that he was prepared to go any length and change his behaviour, just to be able to stay with him, when said alpha was not even able to tolerate his touch?

Bond stood in the living room like a statue; until he realized that he couldn’t hear the shower Q was taking any more, but even though his alpha had finished showering, he had not re emerged from the bathroom. When Bond dared to looked for him several minutes later, he found Q in front of his mirror, with a toothbrush in his hand, leaning against the wall fast asleep. The feeling of love and adoration swelled up in James so strong, that he nearly choked on it. Before he could think twice about it, he stepped up to the young man, lifted him up, and put him into bed.

As soon as Bond drew away the wet towel and touched bare skin, he inhaled sharply. The void inside of him suddenly sprouted emotions: longing, hope and great determination. A painful sound ripped James out of his reverence for these feelings. Regretfully the agent realized, that his grip around Q’s ankle had hurt the young man and instantly he let go. As soon as the contact ceased, he was alone again, terribly and utterly alone inside of his mind. But when he gently placed his hand on any part of his alpha’s skin, the impressions returned. Faint, nearly imperceptible, but noticeable, when you knew what to look for.

Bond drew the covers over Q’s naked body and then sank down next to the bed. He leaned onto the frame and stared into the darkness. So Q had shut him out, completely! But he had not cut their connection. If that were the case, there would be no feelings creeping through their bond. So the question was, why? Why had his alpha shut himself off? The scene had been horrible and Bond had regretted it ever since, but the accusations and the disrespect had not caused Q to abandon him. Instead he had shielded himself and didn’t allow any contact.

Bond hadn’t dwelled on that question over the last two days. Too lonely and too tired, he had once more searched for peace at the bottom of a bottle. He had not allowed himself to think about Q, because the thought of having nuked yet another relationship had been too terrible. Yet, a tiny part of him had been convinced that Q had deserted him because he had been too hurt by Bond’s words and his mind to tolerate him any longer.

But what if Q had not thought about himself? What if his main focus had not shifted as much as Bond had assumed?

Looking at Q in the twilight of their bedroom, he saw dark circles under his quartermaster’s eyes. The young man had slept in the bed two nights ago, last night he had retreated to the sofa because Bond has claimed the bed in childish stubbornness. The young man had done everything to avoid coming across his omega, anything to avoid his touch. That was not surprising when touch allowed his emotions to seep through his shields.

Longing …

Hope …

Determination …

What was it that Q hoped for?

What was he trying to do, that could not – at any rate – include his own omega?

With a frustrated groan, Bond hit the bedframe with the back of his head. The answer was right in front of him and he had been extraordinarily stupid not to see it in the first place. Q wanted the same thing he always desired: to keep his omega safe and happy and right now, when the imperfect shielding from the older man’s side caused him pain, Q had worked himself up to do it for him. Considering that touch only intensified the connection, it was only logical to refrain from allowing any.

 

~ 007 ~

 

When Q woke up the next morning, he could not remember how he had reached his bed. The past three days had been horrible for him. The new connection with his omega allowed him to strive and surpass his usual performance, the lack of it – in combination with the concentration he needed to keep up the shield – allowed him to use only about seventy percent of his usual capacity at work. He had been ashamed but accepted that his minions handled critical projects and agents in the field. To allow an agent to come to harm because he was not on top of his game was out of the question.

When he rose in the morning, he felt a little bit better. Eight hours of sleep could do that to a person, even if he had been overly tired in the first place. When he left the bed, he realized that Bond was sitting on the carpet beside it, leaning against the lower part, sleeping soundly.

As he dressed, he couldn’t help but look at his agent. He wanted to go to him. To sit in his lap and crowd him with his body. He desired to touch him wherever he could, to assure him that he was loved and cared for, that they would work this out. But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t because he was barely able to hold on to his firewall as it was. Intense physical contact would make it crumble and fall, and Q couldn’t allow that to happen. Not before James was ready.

So when he had gone through his morning routine, he crouched down next to his sleeping omega, brushed his fingers through the disorderly hair, ghosting the whisper of a kiss on his forehead, before covering him with a blanket and leaving soundlessly.

Only when the door closed, did Bond open his eyes and turn his head. Q was so guarded and tense when close to him, but when he had thought him asleep, the young man had been relaxed and comfortable in his presence, just like before. It had been hard to keep his breathing deep and even when he had felt the barely there touch of his alpha on his hair, his warm fingers tracing over his temple. When he had felt Q’s lips brushing over his forehead only a moment ago, he had been in both heaven and hell because he had wanted to reach out so desperately, only to be aware that Q would retreat the instant he moved. That situation was not acceptable. So, Bond got up determinedly and went into the bathroom.

He left the flat not fifteen minutes later. Showered, shaved and in a flawless suit once again. He had had enough of tiptoeing around his alpha. Obviously something needed to be done about their connection, and there was only one person in London whom he could ask for help.

 

~ 007 ~

 

When Bond entered the Book-Worm, he was met by the morning “rush hour”. Dozens of employees seemed to be bursting in for their morning-fix of caffeine before running off to work. Having more important things on his mind than breakfast, Bond still queued and ordered a coffee as was expected. A sandwich accompanied the steaming mug, and he retreated towards “his/Q’s” table with a wink. Picking up the morning newspaper, he tried to enjoy his breakfast, and after a while, when the hectic but soothing atmosphere of the coffee shop eased his frazzled nerves, he was able to do so. He appeared to be the perfect businessman, enjoying his morning. He didn’t even need to look around to make sure that no one gave him a second glance.

After about an hour, he had reached the sports-section of the paper, he felt the sofa dip beside him and looked at the slightly disarranged Moira. Her face was flushed and she was smiling, although her hair was a little out of place and her apron was hoodwinked. Yet she studied James, her smile died down and she relaxed against the cushions. After a while, when Bond refrained from saying anything, she stated, “The firewall-principle is not working for you. Am I right, love?”

“No, but it works formidably for Q. He has shut me out completely.” James’ answer was dry and unemotional, but Moira could see the pain behind his eyes. So it was no surprise for her when the man finally reached for her hand and whispered, “Please tell me that you can help me. I don’t know where else to go.”

Smiling she stroked his cheek, caressing the grown man subtly before she nodded. “Yes, because you came. When you are willing to work with me, I am sure we can find a way to help you.” He was touch-starved leaning into her caress without hesitation and it nearly broke her heart to see Q’s omega that way. She couldn’t even phantom how much it had to cost her brilliant boy to withdraw from his partner so completely when being aware of how much he needed the contact.

The relief in Bond’s face was overwhelming, but Moira needed to burst the happy bubble a little. “However, there is one condition. You need to be absolutely honest with me James. Otherwise, I can’t help you.”

That was a huge demand and the woman was well aware, that the man in front of her might not be able to comply. But with half-truths and lies it would be nearly impossible to help him at all. And she had better things to do, than to work through a web of lies and pretences to find a way.

The look the man gave her made her shiver a little. It was as if he bore into her with his eyes to look right down to the bottom of her soul. Calm and tarry, she forced herself to relax against the couch, allowing James to draw his own conclusions about her trustworthiness. A part of her wondered what bloody job he had. But the way Quentin and James acted around her, all secretive about their work, made her sure that it was none of her business anyway. She only hoped that two of her favourite people in the world did not work in organized crime. That would be a serious disappointment.

After a few minutes James seemed to come to a conclusion because he nodded and stated, “I agree, but not here. We need to go somewhere, private.”

After a moment’s hesitation Moira nodded and rose from the sofa. Informing her waitress that she would go back to her flat, she guided the man through a corridor to a narrow staircase to the first floor of the building.

When Bond entered the spacious flat above the café, he couldn’t help but grin. The rooms were so very British and so tremendously Moira that he instantly felt at home. The furniture was an eccentric mixture of old and new and the only difference to the shop was that there were not books filling every cover and every surface. Instead there were pictures, of family, of friends, even one of Q that had to be at least ten years old. The living room was dominated, by a huge portrait of Moira at the arm of a beaming gentleman in a dark jacket. The scenery seemed very idyllic, and the love between the two people almost tangible.

 

When his hostess approached him from behind with a cup of coffee with only a touch of milk, she smiled when she caught him looking at the big picture. “His name was Alexander. We met when I was 8 and he was 12. Our connection was instantaneous although we were just kids back then. It took us more than fifteen years to come together, but it was worth the waiting and we had nearly thirty, mostly happy, years.”

“What happened?” after the first sip of an unscented, unsweetened coffee Bond smiled. No matter where they were, Moira was able to pinpoint his taste in beverages perfectly.

With a lot of regret and sadness, Moira touched the picture before explaining, “After the war he worked as a safety engineer in aeronautics. There was a glitch during a test for a new security system and an engine exploded. It was a tragic accident and two people died along with my Alex. Everybody at his enterprise was very concerned and I got a generous check, but they couldn’t give him back to me so in the end it didn’t mean anything to me.

“I miss him every day. You never know how much time you have; all you can do is make the time at hand as worthwhile as possible because nothing is worse than regret. I loved him and he loved me. We did our very best to enjoy every day, so when I look back, I remember the happy years, and I try not to dwell on the time I need to live through before I will see him once again.”

The longing in James eyes brought tears to Moira’s own. She took his cup from him and hugged him fiercely. For nearly a minute neither of them spoke and when Bond relaxed a tiny bit into her touch she finally whispered, “Let’s start so that you and Q will have the same chance. Alright?”

After a shaky breath Bond let go and eyed Moira critical before asking, “Why are you calling him Q instead of Quentin all of a sudden?”

Smiling the woman shook her head and sat down in an armchair. “Because that’s what you call him. That’s the name he reacts to naturally instead of by training.”

When Bond started to reply Moira raised her hand, “Please. Don’t insult me by colouring me stupid.

“It took Quentin nearly three months to get used to ‘his’ name. People don’t work through the rush hour completely unfazed, scribbling lines of code on receipts so that they won’t forget them, all the while concentrating to remember their own names. Whatever Quentin did ten years ago, making coffee with everybody yelling at him to speed up was relaxation, not work for him. It was a world he had created, not the world he had lived in.

“‘Normal’ people don’t avoid every question about their work, even when they are embarrassed about it. They invent something, something more believable than ruling a ‘kingdom’. They don’t live with men who wear concealed weapons, in a flat with a state of the art security system and cameras in every room.

“I always knew that Q was not ‘normal’, but I never cared. Just like I don’t care about you, although I really hope you don’t spend your time with adjusting concrete-slippers to unruly clients and sawing off horse-heads to scare people away.”

Looking at Moira, first with worry, than with admiration and finally with amusement, Bond couldn’t keep himself from laughing out loud at her underlying implications. “Moira, are you suggesting that I am a mobster?”

Secretly relieved by the blunt dismissal, the woman simply smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “You can never know.”

The agent smiled tenderly and assured: “Believe me darling. Harming this country or its inhabitants is the last thing I would ever do.”

Content with the answer Moira nodded and nudged a little higher in her armchair. “Fine, than let’s start. I think it is a safe assumption that you have troubles working with the picture of a ‘firewall’ to guard your mind. Can you think of something else that could be used as protection instead?”

Clearly confused by the concept Bond shook his head so she continued: “Alright. I will ask you questions and you answer each question with two words. At the end I might be able to figure out what makes you tick and provide you with a picture that works better for you.”

Bond still wasn’t able to get what this was all about. How could a picture help him to shut out Q’s racing thoughts? But unable to think of a better tactic he agreed to the inquiry.

Moira’s voice was comforting but demanding when she started:    “Day”             –  “Lonely, Sad”

                                                                                                              “Gun”             –  “Necessary, Protection”

                                                                                                              “Man”            –  “Only Q”

                                                                                                              “Woman”      –  “Necessary, dangerous”

                                                                                                              “Heart”          –  “Desperate, breaking”

                                                                                                              “Bird”             –  “Flying, target”

                                                                                                              “Q”                 –  “Everything”

Smiling slightly, Moira stated in a soft voice,                                     “I said two words James.”

Bond thought for a second and then completed his answer with:   “Eternity”

Returning to her questioning with a tender smile, she continued with:                  “Sunlight”        –              “Swimming, beach”

                                                                                                              “Moonlight”  –  “Dancing, laughing”

                                                                                                              “Equipment” –  “Gun, radio”

                                                                                                              “Home”         –  “Q, England”

“You are a very interesting man Mr. Bond.” Moira leaned back in her chair and regarded James with a thoughtful look.

“Commander Bond if you please.” James smiled at her statement and couldn’t help but trying to explain at least a little of his weird associations.

Raising her eyebrows, Moira nodded thoughtfully before asking: “What do you consider the most effective protection against a bullet?”

“A bullet proof vest of course.” Bond frowned a little at the last question. A vest was a very obvious protection in his opinion. There was no need to play silly games to answer that question honestly.

“And if you wanted complete armour, if weight or bulkiness were no issue? What material would you choose to protect you against an attack?”

“Titanium I guess.” Bond’s answer was even more confused than before, especially when the woman facing him beamed in delight. She slipped to the front of her armchair and gestured for his hands. Willingly the agent offered them, and felt instantly calmed by warm fingers that rubbed over his wrists.

“You know how scales work on fish. They overlap so that no part of the skin is uncovered, they shift and adapt to the movements and protect its host from all sides. Close your eyes please and imagine a scale of titanium, flawless and perfect. Can you see it?”

Closing his eyes Bond nodded with a slight crease on his forehead. He was willing to work with Moira, but this didn’t make sense at all! Nevertheless, he complied as well as he was able. The scale was substantial, a model of shimmering grey metal and remembering the properties of the material, Bond was sure that it would be a suitable defence against a bullet. Imagining it rotating before his eyes, he nodded when he was sure that the picture was firmly implanted inside of his mind. He could hear the content smile in Moira’s voice when she continued:

“Now imagine a second one, slightly overlapping the first.

“Now a third one on the other side.

“Now we need a fourth one, right on top of the first.

“Now a fifth one, below it.

“Can you see them move? How they make an impenetrable unit, impossible to dismember?”

With his head tilted slightly and his eyes firmly closed Bond nodded and suddenly comprehended what Moira was trying to tell him. Therefore, he opened his eyes and asked, “You think that this picture will protect me better than a technological construct.”

When she nodded, he continued, “But I don’t understand! How can a picture protect me from something real? That’s simply not possible Moira! Q’s thoughts, they are real, they are invading my mind and make a constant white noise, something that drives me crazy.” Lowering his head in defeat he corrected himself silently “Had driven me crazy. Now there is only silence.”

Feeling for the younger man, she rose from her chair and sat next to him on the sofa. Tenderly putting a hand on his shoulder, she waited until he looked at her again before asking with a gentle face, “Have you ever asked him how he sees his work?”

Shaking his head Moira leaned back and dug up memories from her first interactions with Quentin. He had been so young, idealistic and communicative. “It’s not code, not for him. It’s a picture: castles, corridors, gears, machinery, firewalls.” She smiled at James before continuing. “The concept of the program he is working on is a beautiful picture inside of his head, something he tries to perfect.

“Sometimes it needs to be shifted and changed, like a jigsaw-puzzle where you have a glimpse of the final product, but need to arrange the pieces and the colouring accordingly. Do you understand James? What is hurting you, are the pieces of the puzzle that bounce around in Q’s head. Everything is a picture, therefore, a picture, when you can really believe in it, can suffice as a shield against it.”

Sceptical Bond asked, “How do you know?”

Smiling Moira admitted, “Because it was the same for Alex and me. Sometimes, when he was working on a project, his mind would overflow with ideas. Ideas that would seep through our bond and make me dizzy for days on end. I found the picture that worked best for me after reading an article on construction work. I erected a brick-wall inside of my mind. The picture might sound ancient and ridiculous to you, but to me it was the strongest thing I could imagine, and it kept his thoughts at bay until his project was done.

It will be harder for you and Q because you are a very physical being and Q is not. He needs to shield himself from you, although we both know that that is the last thing he wants. You however, need to erect a barrier so strong that it withstands a hail of bullets because knowing Quentin, his thoughts are no less forceful than projectiles.”

>Ideas conquering ideas<

The thought was confusing the pictures were not. Therefore, Bond was confident that he could work with them. He was still not convinced that a ‘titanium-scale-barrier’ would work, but the idea was strong, an according construct in the real world would be nearly impenetrable. So he had to try and erect it inside of his mind. Maybe it would be enough to get him his alpha back.

Being well aware that James was completely lost in thought Moira shooed him out, but not without providing him with a lunch-box. With a deep breath, she turned towards her shop once again. She loved to help those two, but they were quite a piece of work, standing in their own ways in a manner that was unparalleled.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Bond returned to the flat, stored the sandwiches in the fridge before flinging himself into an armchair. He closed his eyes and conjured the image of the titanium scales he had invented earlier. He started to work on the pattern. He instinctively knew that simply imagining a wall would not be enough. He had to work for it, piece by piece. Turning the construct in his mind again and again, to make sure, that it was flawless, before wrapping it around his psyche protectively. He was lost in concentration for a very long time until his stomach forcefully demanded food.

Getting up, he realized that it was nearly three o’clock. Grabbing a soda and his sandwiches he returned to his chair, satisfying his body before beginning his mind-work once again. Luckily, in his line of work, stubbornness and determination usually paid off, so he was willing to invest an infinite amount of time when he was sure he would reach his goal in the end.

It took him four days. Four days of conjuring up the image of the scales. Creating a protective barrier inside of his head that was big enough to be wrapped around his brain. After that, he left the flat again, looking for a goldsmith. He ordered a titanium scale, only two square-centimetres, hooked onto chain of the same material. The backside was engraved with his initials:

 

He allowed himself three more days to tear his shield down and erect it again, although he was desperately yearning for Q’s touch by then.

The day he retrieved the scale from the goldsmith, he was able to erect the wall within seconds. It was like in a Star Trek movie, where things were created out of thin air with the help of a replicator. He wanted the barrier to be there, so it simply shimmered into existence, impenetrable and strong.

A whole week had passed after his last contact with his alpha, and he was back on the couch again, the chain dangling between his fingers, assuring him that he had succeeded.

Q was uncharacteristically early, and the moment he stepped into the living room Bond could see why. The circles under his eyes were so dark they appeared like bruises. Q seemed unsubstantial, almost see-through. Nevertheless, he passed his omega, and retreated into the kitchen. Still not a whisper from his thoughts passed through their bond to James.

Being aware now how horribly draining mental exercises were, the agent stepped up to his quartermaster and ordered silently: “Go to the living room. I will make you dinner.”

With a slightly confused look, but too tired to reject the offer, Q watched carefully as James stepped back to allow him free passage and went to the living-room. Slumping down on the couch, he passed out almost instantly and was snoring slightly when his partner entered with a sandwich and a fresh cup of tea.

Looking at Q, Bond’s chest constricted painfully and he slowly sank to his knees in front of the young man. Now was the time to test his shields. He wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t disappoint his alpha. So he touched the back of Q’s hand with two fingers and closed his eyes. Once more foreign feelings rose inside of his mind. The determination was still there, but the hope had lessened and the longing had increased a hundredfold.

Closing his eyes in pain, Bond concentrated on his wall, erecting the shining, metal barrier around his mind. He allowed himself a shaking breath, then another, then another, and after a whole week of draining and mind-numbing work, he slipped down on the floor and relaxed against the couch with tears of relief and joy in his eyes.

The emotions, their connection, it was completely blocked from his side. It had worked, it had really worked and now he knew that he could wake Q and relieve his alpha from his tremendous burden. They were on equal terms again, and James would not allow history to repeat itself once this battle was won. His voice was calm and tender when he turned towards his quartermaster and brushed his dark hair out of his face. “Q. Q, please wake up.”

Q came awake with a flinch and retreated to the back of the couch immediately, breaking contact. But Bond wasn’t irritated by the gesture any more. Silently, as if speaking to a spooked deer, he explained, “It’s okay, Q. You don’t have to shield any more, at least not all by yourself. I have something for you.” Slowly raising the titanium chain with the scale at the end he offered it to the younger man.

Being aware that his alpha had no chance of understanding he explained, “I’m not like you Q. I can’t work with something as unsubstantial as a firewall. I need something to touch, something to tinker with, something strong! Moira came up with the idea of scales and they work. Titanium is one of the strongest metals, strong enough to protect my mind from your genius brain.” With a small smile, he ruffled through Q’s hair again, delighted that the younger man did not draw back again. Instead he looked at his agent with confused but hopeful eyes.

Trailing his hand through his own hair Bond looked up from his place on the floor and continued, “It’s actually hard to explain, but it works Q. I have complete faith that it works. You will not hurt me again. I am able to protect myself from now on. I might not be able to describe it sufficiently, but I can promise you, you can let go now. I can shield myself sufficiently. Therefore only one question remains: do you have faith in me?”

He held up the chain, offering it to Q. A symbol of protection, a token of faith for his alpha, he looked at the young man with despairing hope and begged: “Trust me Q. Let go and let me handle my part.”

With a shaking breath Q’s gaze bore into James’ eyes just like during the night of their bonding. But while, the agent could feel the slight pressure outside of his shields, nothing penetrated their surface. It was noticeable but in no way painful, slightly distracting at best.

When Q wound his fingers through the offered chain, he intertwined their hands in the process, and after a mere heartbeat his alpha was upon him, in his lap, in his arms, his hands all around him. Shaking all over, Bond lowered his shields again only to be washed away by the pain and the joy, the heartache and the gratitude to be together again. Unsure who was the source and who was the recipient of these feelings, Bond simply basked in their glory.

Trailing his hands over his alpha’s back and through his dark locks, James whispered soothing words to his agitated alpha, only to feel his clothes being tugged at and shoved out of the way. Being fully on board with the plan of getting more skin-to-skin-contact, it took only twenty seconds for both men to lie on the couch on top of each other in only their pants. Q was resting on Bond’s chest, listening to his omega’s heartbeat and – after a fortnight of anguish – was finally able to drift off to a peaceful and relaxing sleep.

 

Smiling contently, James grabbed his alpha’s dinner and finished it off before angling for his mobile and a blanket he planned to pull over them in a moment. After snapping a slightly askew picture he sent it to Moira with only a short message:

>Thank You JB<

 

~ 007 ~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore this picture-set because it seems to show the development of James through the story. I thought I might just include it for you to see: http://hidex007.tumblr.com/post/40240297838/daniel-craig  
> Hope you like it as much as I do :).


	11. Alphas and Omegas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new mission comes along and it doesn't go as planned at all! We will learn what an alpha can do to an omega, especially with gruesome drugs at hand, as well as what Q is prepared to do to get his omega back.

There were glitches in their systems, so to speak. On one occasion Q turned on his heels during a weapons test when he felt an unexplainable nudge in his mind. He left T behind with a new innovative rifle that the leading technician was proudly showing off, only to find Bond flat on his back in the training area, 005 splayed out on top of him. The quartermaster allowed himself two minutes of watching the two agents brawling like kids, before he returned to Q-branch, with a smile on his face.

Another time, Q sat in the middle of the control-room with a wet cloth on his face, so that his bleeding nose wouldn’t drip on the equipment. Minions were fussing all around him. He had his troubles keeping them from freaking out because he had hit the counter once again face first, after an explosion of pain in his head. His head was better already, but the nose was still bleeding profoundly. The technicians and programmers – not used to this amount of blood right in front of them – were worried sick and didn’t know what to do, especially because Q flat out denied going to the infirmary.

When Bond entered, with a nasty wound on his head not two minutes later, everybody was looking at him in anger, hope and pure shock. Someone, whose face was partially covered in blood, had no right to walk into their branch as if he belonged. Nor was this person supposed to pick up a protesting quartermaster to carry him to the medical wing.

When they both returned an hour later, Bond had three stitches and Q had been cleaned up nicely, with his dress-shirt as the only exception. The blood-splatters made a rather prominent pattern on the white fabric.

All in all, it took the both of them not more than a fortnight, to elevate their shielding to a level where they both could work and train, without accidentally influencing the other. After that, Bond went on several assignments, each no longer than a week, and everything worked out just fine. But the agent was offered a mission in Ruanda.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Once again, the mission stemmed from his investigation in Germany the year before. The data he had stolen had been decrypted and analysed and the probability for the core of the terrorist’s network being stationed in the third world country, was high enough to send an agent. Taking this investigation rather personally, Bond was assigned and prepared with determination and incentive.

To say Q was worried about him would be an exaggeration. Bond was trained for this and Q had complete faith that his omega would be able to erase this group of terrorists from the face of the earth and still be with him before Easter. The equipment was rather sophisticated, created to deal with wind, water, sand and even geological anomalies like earthquakes that were known to happen in this area.

So when Bond kissed Q good-bye and went on his way, both of them felt confident. They didn’t know, that a long time would pass, before they would see each other again.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Bond going radio silent was neither the first, nor the last time during an assignment. Q opened his shields and although his omega was far, far away, he was still able to pick up occasional traces of his emotions. The agent was frustrated, angry, determined, hopeful and occasionally aggressive, all in all, perfectly normal feelings for 007 during a mission.

When their connection suddenly ended, Q was a little worried. Mostly because with his alpha designation, he was inclined to worry over his omega, especially when said omega was far away. But he didn’t allow himself to linger on this thought because, after all, this was nothing new. But after two weeks, Q actually started searching for his Double-Oh and found him in a small nest in Ruanda, not 50 kilometres from the Uganda border.

After an additional week when no contact was made, Q allocated a part of his resources in an active search for his agent’s location. He was deeply troubled, when he wasn’t able to even get a glimpse of him. When he returned home that night, he opened his bond all the way and tried to reach James.

There was a faint connection, something he could follow, but it was not strong enough to communicate through. After leaving work early the next day, he tried again and the day after that and the day after that. Twenty-five days had passed since he had kissed his partner good-bye, when he finally established a stable connection.

The achievement however was bittersweet, because the instant he touched James’ mind, a flood of emotions washed over him and had him drowning. Only with iron will and pure determination was he able to fight his way back to the surface of his genius mind, so that he could sort through these feelings. Mostly and overall there was pain. A pain that was so consuming that it left him sobbing, even in the safety of his own bedroom. But underneath the pain, there was still determination and anger, a tiny bit of fear but mostly the resolve he was used to from his partner dominated his omegas emotional landscape.

Therefore, Q left Bond’s mind with a shaking breath and tears streaming down his cheeks. He desperately hugged James’ pillow and inhaled his omega’s scent. He had to have faith in 007. Bond would never forgive him if he started a retrieve and rescue-mission as long as his agent still saw a way to fulfil this assignment.

 

~ 007 ~

 

When Bond opened his eyes, he couldn’t help but groan. His head was throbbing; his hands were tied behind his back and his feet to the chair he currently sat on. If he had one pound for every time he found himself in that position, his income would be substantial. Knowing it was useless to stave off the inevitable; he raised his head and looked around.

He found himself in a cellar, void of any decoration. Facing a window, he made the educated guess that the door had to be behind him. In the corner of the room was an unexpectedly clean mattress with shackles embedded in the wall above. It was not hard to assume, that he would find himself in that corner sooner or later.

After a few undisturbed hours, he heard someone entering the room through aforementioned door, and Bond found himself face to face with a surprisingly friendly looking gentleman. He was offered water, which he accepted because denying it would be plain stupid, before the man asked in a rather well accented English, “How did you find us?”

“I don’t even know who ‘us’ is. I am a photo journalist, and I was taking just pictures in Ruhondo for a job.” He answered confusedly and uncertainly with a lot of fear showing in his eyes. He knew that his equipment and a thorough technical search would support this story. Businessmen rarely came to Ruanda, so that cover story had been out of the picture right from the beginning. But expensive photo-equipment and a license as a free journalist was easy to acquire, especially when everybody and his mother used the Internet for research.

Bond kind of did expect the backhand that nearly sat his chair back to the cold, concrete floor. But after that, his kidnapper simply stated, “Fine, let’s have it your way. We will talk in two days.”

“Could you at least unshackle me, this is really uncomfortable? Especially if you plan on imprisoning me here for the time being, and believe me, my client will start looking for me!“ cocky attitude usually led to more physical violence, but something about the man in front of him unnerved Bond. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He was genuinely surprised when the gentleman in front of him complied.

After a mere minute, he was free from his bonds, only to find himself unable to move at all. A knowing smile from the man supported Bond’s guess that he had been well aware of this inability in the first place. Moving his arms with great effort, he found tiny needle-marks on the inside of his left elbow.

Still unsure of what to expect, Bond followed his captor him with his eyes until the sturdy metal door was closed behind him. Fighting for his body to comply with his wishes, the agent rose from the chair after two minutes, and inspected his cell.

He found himself in a cell not only with a mattress and window but also with a drain in the corner that obviously was supposed to be a toilet. The door was frustratingly thick when he examined it and every amount of physical violence towards it remained fruitless.

The same went for the bars on the window in the upper corner of the cell. So for now, without any means of escape and absolutely no idea who his kidnapper was, Bond remained relatively silent, checking repeatedly if he had overlooked something, but when the sun set after an uneventful night and day, he simply dozed off in the corner.

When he woke again, he found a sandwich wrapped in plain paper, a bar of chocolate and a big paper cup of water next to the door. Having not consumed anything for at least two days, Bond took his kidnappers offer and ate every last bite. He was well aware of the risk of being drugged, but draining his body by starving wouldn’t be an advantage in his situation. He regretted his choice immediately when he felt his limps growing heavier and heavier, losing consciousness within a few minutes.

The next time he awoke, he was chained spread eagled to the ceiling as well as the floor. He was in a different room though, more pleasant although furnished rather simply. His captor sat on a cushioned sofa, one of his employees breathed down Bonds neck. Being angry with himself as well as the situation, Bond glared at the man in the suit, but refrained from commenting on his changed situation.

Sighing slightly as if confronted with a rather stubborn child, the gentleman rose and beckoned his companion to leave the room with him. Completely confused by the action, Bond shouted after them, only to be met with silence for the following hours. Being chained was a torture in itself, but the agent had survived worse, so he simply accepted the situation and saved his strength for the things to come.

After a few hours, he thought that he could feel a gentle brush in his mind. Unsure of how to respond, he opened himself to the contact, only to be met with worry and uncertainty. Aching all over Bond tried his best to push the agony to the back of his mind, meeting his alpha’s contact with the most positive feelings he could muster. Even when Q retreated after the brief connection, Bond felt slightly more at ease. Although his situation seemed rather hopeless right now, he was sure that he would be able to succeed. He had been through worse and had come out alive.

The pattern of being drugged and chained repeated itself over the next week. Nobody ever laid a finger on him. Although the treatment was a torment in itself, Bond was very well aware that, for kidnappers, this was the equivalent of a five star suite with spa-treatment. What made him slightly uneasy were his feelings regarding his captor. After a week, he felt more and more compelled to lower his eyes when confronted with the man. At ten days, he had to fight to remain upright when the other person approached him while being chained to the corner of his room. He was off his suppressants and the effect on his biology showed when confronted with a dominant personality.

It was that evening, when the gentleman loomed over him, his gangly limps covered by expensive fabric, Bond encountered a reaction that made him freeze to his very bones; the man inhaled deeply and smiled knowingly. Bond couldn’t stop himself from flinching back slightly at the feral smile, only to straighten up again after a second, suppressing his physical reaction.

He snarled at the man and turned his head when he brushed over his jaw line in a mockingly tender gesture. But that only led to a tight grip on his hair before his head was ripped back brutally. The words of the man were so dominant and honest in their ferocity that Bond couldn’t help but shiver slightly when the hot breath brushed over his ear and the gentleman whispered, “We are going to have so much fun my little omega. They should have known better than to send someone like you!”

What truly scared Bond, was that his body seemed to react instantly to this display of dominance. His pupils blew wide in fear and his adrenaline shot high at the intimate contact. He had to fight down his desire to submit because this man in front of him displayed every emotion and action Bond had hated in alphas for his whole life, until the very moment he had met Q.

Only with the quartermaster, he had no problems in giving in to his submissive desires because he knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that Q would never, ever consciously hurt him, despite the fact that their playtime was occasionally ruff.

The problem at the moment could be described with one word ‘suppressants’ or the lack of them, his biology made itself known in his scent, a scent that the alpha in front of him had clearly picked up on, as well as in his demeanour. Over the last few months, Bond had forgotten how it straining it was to suppress every tiny reaction his body gave when confronted with a dominant, and for the first time in a long time, he was truly scared. He wouldn’t back down, not now, not ever, but he still was afraid.

It turned out that his fear was unnecessary because he wasn’t even picked up the next day to be presented in the living room. He only noticed a small itching on his thigh the next morning, but not feeling different and having not seen anybody for the last 24 hours; he dismissed it in favour of steeling himself for the next contact with that bloody alpha.

On the next day he found himself chained to the wall, hands above his head. It was not uncomfortable per se, but slightly tiresome to be unable to even use the toilet. During the day however, a toilet break was farther and farther away from his mind. He felt hot, feverish, his clothes - unclean and sweaty - started to itch, and he simply couldn’t find a comfortable position. Unsure of what to make of this, Bond simply started to fidget with his clothes the best he could, to at least get rid of his shirt and shoes.

The extent of what was happening to him became clear when the alpha approached him the next morning. Bond was shivering and squirming on the mattress, until he could smell the man in front of him. He forcefully bit back a whimper, but couldn’t keep his traitorous body from arching into the contact, when the alpha laid his hand on his chest, rubbing over his sensitive nipples.

His voice was close to purring when he stated, “They were stupid when they believed that an omega, of all people could have a chance of defeating me. You might have been able to dismantle our cell in Germany, but the ambassador was an idiot. I am way out of your league. Nevertheless, we will have a lot of fun together.”

With that, he opened a small box he had brought with him and retrieved a filled syringe. Bond struggled in earnest, not wanting to be drugged with whatever drug this maniac planned to inject.

But after a moment of enjoying that picture, the man simply lowered his hand cupping the rather impressive bulge in Bond’s pants, and the desperate omega couldn’t help but arch into the stimulating touch. It felt good, far too good and there was no way to deny his body that contact. Rubbing gently over the engorged flesh the syringe was buried in Bond’s flesh and the agent hissed, with the slight pain as well as with the loss of contact, when the alpha drew back both hands.

With a genuine smile the man stated, “You are not strong enough to fight your biology. Sooner or later you will give in. You omegas are slaves to your body, weak and helpless against it. With this drug I can force you into an artificial heat until you will beg me to take you.”

Stroking over Bond’s shivering torso the agent drew back rather forcefully before the man grabbed his throat and pried open his mouth, kissing him aggressively before hissing in his ear, “You will tell me everything, anything I desire to know, just to be filled with my cock, flooded with my seed to ease the burning desire in your groin that will overwhelm you soon. It’s inevitable, the course of nature. You have no chance. Resisting will only make it worse, pet!”

After that, he abruptly let go and Bond had to fight every fibre of his being, not to moan at the loss of his touch. But instead of letting how much the man had gotten to him show, he glared and tried to kick at his feet. He snarled until the alpha left the room, only to sink back as soon as the door has closed.

He could feel the drug taking effect. His body heated up, prepared itself to be taken. It was not as strong as when it happened naturally, but still it was hard to bear. The problem was this bastard could maintain this condition indefinitely. The thought of the drug accumulating in his system, made Bond really, really worried, because he knew, sooner or later he would give in. He was born to act this way, and once again, he despised his biology for the mere prospect of betraying Q. Betraying the only man who had ever showed unrelenting faith in him.

 

~ 007 ~

 


	12. Useful connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Help comes to those who deserve it.

When Q awoke a few days after his last contact with his omega, he felt tired, cranky and slightly feverish. His quilt was half on the floor and his desire to mount someone, preferably his omega, was nearly all consuming. He blindly grabbed the bed sheets and when his hand enveloped his cock he nearly arched of the mattress. His fingers wrapped around his shaft, which was already covered in precum, and the slick feeling only edged him on. Pictures of his omega, splayed out on said linen dominated his mind. The mere fantasy of being buried in James, feeling his hot heat engulfing him whole, was enough to push Q over the edge after only a few strokes.

Lazily he traced the cum on his chest with his fingertips only to realize that his need hadn’t subsided, didn’t lessen in the slightest. He open his eyes and stare at the ceiling trying to think this through. He was alone, in their shared bedroom. Although the sheets still faintly smelled like Bond, his suddenly persistent desire could not be explained by that smell alone. Q had woken every morning, wrapped around James’ pillow, after only being able to sleep a few hours each night because of the illusion of his omega in safety. It got harder and harder to imagine James being safe the longer his agent was absent.

He nearly moaned and was tempted to have a second wanking session, but instead kept himself still. It was completely absurd. Usually his body only reacted so strong if his omega was with him and said omega was in heat. Although Bond and Q enjoyed sex tremendously, the sharp edge he currently felt was unusual, normally only present when his omega was terribly aroused.

With a shaking breath, Q did his best to gather his wits, worriedly reaching for their bond, only to draw back instantly, being nearly burned with the desperate fire it released. With a deep breath, the alpha tried his best to shield his mind from the unwanted emotion but keep the bond open, while following it to its source. As he reached the source, he was overwhelmed with frantic desire once again. Coming in contact with James’ mind he realized that something was indeed very, very wrong. The feelings that dominated his omega’s mind were confusing, aching and so very desperate.

_~Touch me. Please touch me.~_

_~Don’t touch me! You are not my alpha. You are not Q!~_

_~Please, I need you. Something to make the pain go away.~_

_~I need you to fill me. To mount me! Take me, please!~_

_~GO AWAY! I NEED Q!~_

Bond’s thoughts were as emotionally charged, as they were bewildering. His body and mind seemed to be at war with itself and that hurt his agent all over. His desperate need to reach his alpha had to be, what had triggered Q’s arousal in the first place. His situation seemed most dire because his body clearly burned up with heat. This didn’t make any sense, because Bond had lived through his second heat in their relationship only six weeks ago. And although the intervals were known to vary, six weeks was not long enough to justify such a strong reaction.

Q tried to reach his partner. Tried to sooth him with gentle words and caring emotions and after about an hour, he was sure, that his agent had gotten the message because the desperate calls for him lessened a little bit. Q however, couldn’t explain the biological response; something on this mission must have triggered it. Therefore, he reluctantly drew back into his own mind and only partially closed the connection to his omega. Leaving him completely alone, without the slightest form of comfort, was unthinkable to Q.

After a cold shower, the quartermaster stormed into headquarters and started to research each and every member of the terrorist cell Bond could have encountered in Ruanda. It took him nearly six hours, during which he consumed vast amounts of tea and snapped at everyone who approached him; to get a clear picture of William, Sebastian Colebrook, the estimated leader of the organization the MI6 was currently trying to wipe off the face of the earth.

Not five minutes after this discovery, Q marched into M’s office, shouting the house down hos the leader they had sent Bond after was known as the most cruel and vicious alpha, currently living on the planet. Not only did he possess a doctorate in chemistry, but also he was well versed in genetic engineering. He had written several articles for renowned medical journals where he had proclaimed that he was developing a vaccine that would allow an omega to suppress his heat almost indefinitely. But after a few months of development, and the announcement of a ground-breaking achievement in medicine, news had died down and he had, more or less, dropped off the face of the earth.

Q had the nagging feeling that his research had resulted in a certain compound, but instead of suppressing a heat in an omega; it seemed to evoke it. Therefore, there was only one possible cause of action Q could see: “We need to get 007 out of there M. The situation is dangerous. Bond needs our help!”

“How do you know that?” as always Mallory’s words were calm and composed, regardless of the currently very agitated man standing before his desk who barely kept himself in check from throwing things.

Q’s eyes widened in disbelief: “Do you honestly expect me to explain in detail how I know about the current position of an agent during a mission?”

The answer was horribly evasive, but M didn’t need to know that. The truth was, Q had currently not the slightest clue where Bond was and what was happening to him. The only thing he knew: his omega was in heat. And no matter if it was natural or chemically induced: he needed his alpha to deal with it. The thought of another alpha close, touching him, touching his omega sent Q to the edge of a murderous rage.

M however seemed oblivious to this fact, or simply choose to ignore it when he stated, “Compose a report for me, include his current position and situation and I will think about it. Honestly Q, 007 is one of our most experienced agents. The chance of him getting into trouble is quite high, I give you that, but until now he has always found a way to come back.”

The quartermaster was on his way to replying with a very unflattering quote when he felt a hand encircling his upper arm, dragging him from the office. As soon as the door was closed, Q whipped around ready to attack the person who had hauled him out of his superior’s office. But instead of letting go Tanner just grabbed both of his wrists and held them in strong, unmoving hands. His voice was even, given the circumstances when he asked, “Q, what’s happening? Tell me the truth!”

Being aware, that they were currently alone, Q let out a shaking breath before explaining, “He is going into heat, I don’t know how, but I guess he is being drugged. It’s unbearable for an omega to be without a partner during such times. And the only alpha in the vicinity is Colebrook. He is in pain, Tanner! He needs me! I cannot just turn around and leave him there. Act as if nothing is happening and have faith that he will return, when I know what’s going on. I need to go to him!”

“No. NO!” Tanner shook Q with one strong motion, forcing the alpha to concentrate on him.

“What you NEED to do is pulling up your shields! Oh, don’t look like that, you are both working for MI6, of course I know what’s going on, I am the Chief of Staff and responsible for you!” Shaking his head at the unbelieving look in Q’s eyes Tanner still refrained from letting the quartermaster go and emphasized, “You need to raise your shields and cut every connection because he is making a mess of you. Bond needs you to have a clear head right now. You need to compose this report for M. You need to find him, Q! Only when we know where he is, are we able to get him out. But this has to happen under the radar. Nobody can know about Bond’s involvement in Ruanda. That was the main directive for this mission in the first place. Do you understand Q. NO ONE, not even your branch!”

No trails, no official requests, no calling in favours. That made the search a lot more complicated. That was no novelty, merely unusual. Sometimes, when the political climate was too dense or a group too important, MI6’s interference was swept under the rug, so to speak. As quartermaster, Q was well aware of this policy, but it annoyed the hell out of him right now.

 

~ 007 ~

 

It was rather late, when Q finally emerged from his office. He was aware, that most minions had already left Q-branch, and those who were still here used side-offices for confidential projects or agent handling. Therefore, he dared to use the main control station for his research. For the last couple of hours, he had been forced to use the computer in his office because it was more secure, and no one would accidentally look over his shoulder and discover the nature of his investigation.

He was on his way of call up some maps of Ruanda, concentrating on the area around Ruhondo, when he felt two figures approaching him from behind. Swiftly overlaying the maps with a research project, he said tiredly without turning around, “It’s getting late. You two should head home.”

The next two statements came in rapid order from two very unlikely sources:

R – his second in command – said, “The same goes for you quartermaster.”

While T – the leader of the technical development-unit – added rather mischievously, “But it looks like you are using official MI6’s resources for personal gain.”

When Q tiredly turned around, he was facing the two highest-ranking members of his branch, standing beside each other, with their arms crossed and a rather determined look on their faces. Knowing that it was rather useless to lie to his colleagues, he had chosen them for their brains after all, he just sighed, exhausted and ordered them, “Go home, both of you. This is nothing you want to be a part of.” Before turning around, closing the reports, only to stare at the map, desperately searching for a different approach on his hunt for 007.

He was surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder and looked at R in confusion. The gentleness of his locum surprised him when the man asked, “Q how long have you been awake, staring at this map, trying to find Bond? You are tired and out of your mind with worry. Let us help you.”

Knowing that they rarely shared the same opinion, used to having to pull rank on the overexcited man now and then, Q was surprised, that his colleague offered his support and even more his honest concern. And although he was grateful for the offer, he simply shook his head and decided, “I can’t. You both need to go. This is not official. I am technically not even allowed to do it. When someone finds out what we … I mean, what I am doing here, MI6 will get into a shitload of trouble.”

The rather uncharacteristically use of a swearword made T snap. Rather forcefully he turned Q around, yanking him away from the terminal and ordered, “Get out, Q. Get out, get us some Starbucks and something to eat. You need a break and fresh air. You are of no use to your agent if you can’t think straight!”

And with that, both men turned towards the main terminal, determined to ignore Q for the time being.

The quartermaster felt overwhelmed with gratitude as he watched the two of them establish firewalls and tracing programs that would mask their advanced through the World Wide Web and few systems that did not operate quite so worldwide. With a shaking breath he finally went for his jacket and left headquarters. It was shortly after midnight when he returned with three big cups of coffee and a variety of sandwiches and muffins. Two rather frustrated colleagues, who seemed to be arguing over the best way to search for their agent, greeted him.

“You can’t just access the CCTV. For one, this damn city has close to none and second, Q has already done that!”

“Then we have to find another trace. There has to be something. If they are not holding him in a hole in the earth there has to be a bloody trace!”

Both voices were rather agitated and Q could completely understand the sentiment. He had encountered the feeling several times today. Quietly he stated, “He is being held in a concrete room with a mattress, a drain and lamp. He has a window to the outside, but no light beside the natural ever reaches his cell.”

Both men turned around in unison and looked at him disbelievingly. The question was voiced simultaneously: “How do you know?”

Lifting his shoulder Q stated evasively, “I just do.”

The look they threw each other showed clearly that they didn’t believe a single word. But knowing their quartermaster they were aware that it was useless pressuring him, so both refrained from commenting on that.

It was T who finally asked, “Can you find out more?”

Q’ forehead creased when he admitted, “I don’t know. I can try.”

When he opened himself up to his omega he instantly felt another wave of scorching heat wash over him. The arms reaching out for him, keeping him from falling before dragging him to a sofa, remained unnoticed when Q fought his way into his agents mind, past the distracting emotions. He felt tears streaming down his cheeks when he became aware of the desperate pleading of his omega:

_~Please Q. I need you. I need you here with me. I’m so hot. I’m so alone. I can’t bear this. I need you inside of me. Please, Q, please come to me. I swear to you, I will do whatever you want. I will even stay at home and never go on another assignment as long as you come and get me. I can’t bear this. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.~_

Fighting through his partner’s desperation, Q tried his best to sooth his partner. Calm words and emotions were transmitted, the equivalent of gentle caresses because he was unable to do more from so far away.

_~I will come for you James. I will get you out I promise. But you need to concentrate for me right now. Can you do that? Concentrate really hard for me?~_

He felt Bond’s rather uncharacteristic but overwhelming desire to obey him. He knew that his agent was currently nodding, even though he was unable to actually see him. Therefore he continued:

_~I need to know where you are James, so that I can come and get you. Try to remember for me. Remember everything you can about your location. Then I will find you, I promise. But you have to help me, give me a clue, something I can work with!~_

He was flooded with pictures, accompanied by emotions, mostly pain, but he desperately clung onto his sanity, to find any useful information from them. When the data stream ebbed, he once more felt the desperate thoughts of his omega.

_~Did I do it right? I did what you told me. I was good, wasn’t I? You will get me now, won’t you? Please Q, was I good for you? Will you get me? Please! I can’t bear this. He is touching me. I can’t bear him. I need you! PLEASE!~_

In that moment only iron determination kept Q on the sofa. His desire to fly to Ruanda and tear the other alpha apart piece by piece was overwhelming and clouded his mind with every breath he took. His fingernails dug into his palms as he tried to fight down his carnal desire to destroy the one who was currently hurting his omega. It nearly broke his heart to close the connection, even after spending several minutes soothing his partner and assuring him that he had indeed been very good and that he would get him out as soon as possible. In all his life had he never experienced Bond so desperate, so needy and so small. His agent always seemed larger than life to him, but at the moment he appeared anxious and tiny. Q had the overbearing urge to reach him, wrap his arms around him and protect him from the world.

When he had separated himself from his omega’s mind, he was forced to look into two tremendously worried faces. Q let out a shaking breath, gratefully taking the offered wet washcloth and glass of water.

T’s urged him, “Drink, it will do you good,” while R offered the wet cloth for Q to wash away the tears that streamed over his face.

His second in command was determined when he declared: “We will find him. We will find your agent, and we will get him out of there.”

Q simply nodded and fought his way onto his feet, stepping up to the terminal. They would find him and they would get him out. Any other outcome for this situation was absolutely not acceptable.

He bit into the muffin that was offered and felt revived when the sugar hit his system. Summarizing what he had learned, he started a new search, “He is being held in a seemingly generous house. The cellar-room has a light but there are no artificial lights outside. The interior is minimalistic but of good quality. He smelled chemicals occasionally; he identified only sulphur but heard a Bunsen burner one time. There seemed to be a first storey, but he wasn’t able to confirm that. He never heard any kind of traffic, but he has been unconscious several times during his imprisonment.”

“Electricity means public connection or a generator,” was R’s first conclusion.

T added almost instantly, “If there really is a chemical lab in the vicinity – regarding your research about Colebrook’s interests, it’s likely – he needs access to water.”

“How do you…?” Q was rather baffled by the conclusions his co-workers drew from his explanations; they admitted that they had accessed his research.

But when they turned towards him with a matching facial expression that only said – Please, you hired us. Give us some credit – he decided to let this one slide in favour of accessing a weather satellite that was currently positioned over central Africa.

 

~ 007 ~

 


	13. Unexpected Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rescue mission.

When Tanner entered the control room the next morning, all three members of Q-branch had a good idea where Bond was held captive, but appeared dead on their feet. They were unable to create a valuable report at the moment, sill hiding the fact, that Q had a mental connection with his omega, an omega that was currently undergoing an artificial heat.

So the Chief of Staff dragged the three of them towards the infirmary, forcing them to lie down in one of the sickrooms, making the doctor promise not let them leave for at least six hours. Then entered his office and started to compile their findings into a coherent report himself, so that he could present it to Mallory. The meeting however did not exactly go as he had planned.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Q was shaken awake and slightly disoriented when Tanner towered over him. Angling for his glasses, the Chief of Staff beckoned the young man to follow and so the quartermaster did, with his two minions behind him. Both seemed equally tired and confused.

Approaching M’s office, they met the worried eyes of their leader. Before he could be drowned with questions, Mallory simply turned around his computer and started a rather professional looking video.

The sixty seconds of footage revealed nothing that the three members of Q-branch hadn’t been able to discover themselves last night. But nevertheless it shook them to their core.

Q, for once, was sure that he would not have been able to remain upright, if not for the two sets of hands that steadied him.

The video showed a rather distressed agent, naked in a cellar. He was chained with his hands above his head, writhing on a mattress that seemed to be slick with sweat and other body fluids. His body was flushed and covered in perspiration. His eyes – as far as the video showed – were glassy and absently gazing at nothing in particular, and all that could be heard was his desperate and broken pleading for a fuck, for any form of contact, for something only a little touch, anything else but being left alone. No one else was shown, and the video ended with a name: Victor Kaname.

Mallory was met with two sets of worried gazes and one murderous pair of eyes. Q’s voice was cold and beyond human when he growled: “Who the bloody hell is Victor Kaname?”

Hands that had supported him earlier, were holding him back now because he seemed ready to jump over the desk and strangle M just for presenting the video of his captive partner.

M – oblivious or ignorant to the imminent danger – explained in a rather cool voice, “Mister Kaname is a member of the terrorist cell 007 was on his way to taking out. We had been able to extract him about six months ago. His return to these people is completely out of the question because he still provides valuable insight for us. He has helped to uncover the location of the headquarters. Without him, we would have not been able to even think about 007’s current mission at this point. But all that aside, we don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

Unable to contain himself any longer, Q practically ripped his body from the hands of his minions and stormed out of M’s office. R and T however lingered for a moment. Mallory looked at them. “I don’t care what you have to do to get Bond out of there. Do it! But not at the cost of this man’s life. He has been cooperative beyond compare, and I am not willing to risk his return to those people.”

After both members of Q-branch nodded he added, “Now go. Talk some sense into our quartermaster before he causes an international crisis!”

 

~ 007 ~

 

“You are aware that he will do everything in his power to get his partner back?” Tanner worried, as soon as the last member of Q-branch had left. The Chief of Staff really didn’t see any use in circumventing this discussion. Although M didn’t know about Q’s and 007’s designation, he must have picked up the signs of Q and Bond being in a stable relationship, and he must be aware of their degree of loyalty, there was really no way to think that they would surrender to this situation.

Mallory sighed silently, looking at the Chief of Staff before answering, “Then let’s hope he is as cautious now as he was with Silva.”

 

~ 007 ~

 

Q had no patience whatsoever to keep himself in line. As soon as he had left M’s office, he went straight to the shooting range of Q-branch and emptied every rifle and handgun he was able to find into the targets. When R and T approached him not an hour later, the room resembled a war-zone. Q’s scorn however seemed not to have dampened at all. It was clear whom he pictured at the end of his barrel.

When his two minions spoke up to get his attention, he whipped around and instantly, making the both of them stepping back towards the exit. Never before had they seen their leader in such a murderous mood. His eyes were blazing with hatred, and he even snarled when they approached him. Truly, the gun in his hands was the least of their worries since the rifle was empty, but Q looked ready to tear them apart with bare hands if they were to draw his anger towards them.

The dark-skinned man behind them however, wasn’t scared so easily. Without a moment’s hesitation, he stepped up to Q and calmly offered him his hand. His voice was heavy accented as he introduced himself, ”Victor Kaname. It looks like we share an enemy.“

Q looked at his colleagues in anger and hissed, “What is he doing here? M made his opinion quite clear on sending him back,“ before returning his gaze to the man that towered over him by at least one head.

 

Looking back to the people who had approached him not twenty minutes ago, the man smiled like a shark and chose to answer for them, “I am here by my own choice. I am well aware that this is not official business. But it seems like – Comment ça se dit? – we share an acquaintance that we would really like to see - how should I phrase that? - vanished from the face of the earth. Oui?“

Looking at the predatory giant, Q asked skeptically, “Why?“

Although still smiling a little, Mr. Kaname answered with an icy edge in his voice, “Let’s just say, what was shown in the video was neither the first, nor the most gruesome torture William Colebrook has ever inflicted on a human being.“

Realizing that this was a rather sore matter for the African, Q simply nodded and gestured towards the exit. All four men entered Q’s office and after few swift keystrokes, Q joined the group on the lounge in the corner. His voice was concerned as he stated, “M will not allow your return to Africa.“ His own desire to send the man there to get his omega back conflicted with M’s orders and though Q didn’t like it, he respected Mallory too much to officially contradict him.

The black man didn’t seem to share his concern. “As far as I know, I am allowed to spend my free-time however I please. I have not exactly been forbidden to return to my former country, only strongly encouraged not to doing so.”

Now T piped up because Q’s reluctance clearly unnerved him, “We can inject him with a tracer. We would not lose him. We have equipment ready for a search and rescue mission. Not all of it is officially approved and registered by now, but it is all tested and ready. Q we can do this. With Mister Kaname willing to help us, we can get 007 out of there. Why don’t you take the offer?“

After a moment’s hesitation, Q turned towards his minions and asked them to leave. As soon as he was alone with the African, he slumped back in the armchair. He was tired, and hurt and desperate. This man offered the best chance he could get. He was fit and obviously well versed in combat, he had several scars to show for that. He was built for fighting, and his lack of reaction as soon as he had entered their shooting range suggested that he was used to destruction. But still Q didn’t like the idea.

Therefore he made the only decision possible for the quartermaster of the MI6, although it tore him apart. “Mr. Kaname I am really grateful for your offer. But you are a member of MI6 now, or so I have been informed. Therefore I cannot risk your safety for our agent’s. Thank you but, no thank you.“

When he tried to get up, a strong hand closed around his wrist and held him back. Every trace of social nicety had vanished, the man looked upon Q with hard and cold eyes as he stated: “MI6 has given me a chance. I am grateful for that. But don’t think for one second, that gratitude is my only motive. I have seen what this man can do. I have seen it done to my own family. I feel no loyalty for him or my former country. The only thing that stands between me and my revenge is M’s orders. I am willing to overlook them. So tell me, how much is this agent worth to you? Are you willing to utilize ALL available resources to get him back?“

With a deep breath Q closed his eyes for a minute and tried to think the situation through. When he opened them again, he had given in, chosen his omega over this man he barely knew, chosen James over MI6. In the end there really hadn’t been a choice. His voice was calm again, but the edge mirrored that of the man in front of him when he said, “All I wish for at the moment is to get my partner out of there and then blast his entire compound into oblivion. It would not be satisfying but it would be enough.“

With a cruel smile Victor Kaname suggested, “If it is blood you are after, why don’t you make it a more personal statement? With your support I will get your agent, and then I will tear Colebrook apart.“

“Agreed.” Q took the offered hand and shook it. Once the decision was made, he changed into full ‘handler-mode”. “We need to get you equipped as discreetly as possible. As soon as M get’s inkling about what we are doing, the show is over. Go to R. He will give you everything you need. I will book your flight and organize appropriate transport. You will be equipped with a car in the airport of Entebbe in Uganda. We have an embassy there. Once you have Bond and the target is eradicated, you need return to the embassy, so that we can assess 007’s injuries before bringing him back.“

Q was all business, and he admitted freely that it felt damn good to have a plan. He had to put all his faith into an unknown source, but for James he had to risk it. When they both approached the door he held the man back and told him, “If this goes as planned I will owe you. Whatever you need. You can make one request where I will not ask questions, nor look twice. If you get Bond out, I will be in your debt.“

Looking upon the quartermaster of the MI6, Victor Kaname was very well aware of the magnitude of this offering. But for him, revenge was enough. Hoping for a successful career in espionage he simply said, “Should I ever be in a similar situation, I trust you to do the same for me that you are currently doing for him.“

After a simple agreement on those terms, both men left the office and went to work.

 

~ 007 ~

 

It was just another morning for 007. His captor approached him, fed him breadsticks with a cream Bond was licking willingly from his fingers just for the sake of skin-to-skin contact, and quenched his thirst with a sweet and nurturing drink before touching him. His arms were covered in sweat, as well as dry blood from his useless yanks on the chains. His torso was covered with tears, sweat and other fluids that his body produced in abandon. Bond didn’t know if he was drawing back or arching into the touch. It was so good, so horrible, so needed and so wrong at the same time. But everything was better than being alone.

He couldn’t remember the time before the heat. His body suppressed every attempt at a conscious thought, flooding his brain with hormones that urged him to procreate. When a tender hand reached for his cock tears of gratitude welled up in his eyes, because it felt so good. As always the gesture was accompanied by a question. A question that was asked every morning, to which he always gave the same answer, “Who has sent you?“

“Q.“

There were days – like today for example – when he couldn’t even remember what that letter meant. His body was making things difficult for him because it was not given what it needed. The drug as well as his hormones clouded his mind and concealed his memory. A part of him was sure that this was not how it was meant to be. He shouldn’t be aching all the time. He should be able to remember who or what ‘Q’ was. He was someone, he was sure of that, someone import, someone Bond’s whole existence should revolve around.

But when the alpha in front of him stated disgustedly, “Weak, useless omega!“ Bond mentally prepared for another stab in the thigh.

That was it. He was useless and weak. He had disappointed Q. That had to be the reason he was here. It was a punishment. He tried to remember a time when things had not been like this, when he had not been lonely and in pain all the time. It was hard, but sometimes there were flashes of a former life. A life where he was cherished even loved, one where he was cared for and knew that he was safe.

The problem was he couldn’t even be sure if these were memories or hallucinations. He wanted to believe that Q had been there for him. That he had protected him and cared. But if he had been there for James, then Bond must have done something truly horrible because Q was there anymore. He was alone, in his body and his mind. All that greeted him when he tried to look inside during his desperate attempts to access the bond he knew he possessed, was a faint static noise and darkness.

 

~ 007 ~

 

He was aware that he spent as much time lashing out as begging to be fucked. He just didn’t have the strength to resist any more when the alpha was around. When the door was suddenly pushed open and the alpha was shot, all he could do was retreat into his corner, whimpering pathetically. Because although the large body covering his felt like a relief, at the same time he felt so wrong that Bond wanted to vomit.

 

The gigantic black man that entered the room didn’t even spare him a glance, when yanking the alpha back and threw him into the middle of the room. He asked tense while pulling out a long blade from a sheath at his back. “I’m in. Do you have visual?“

When the man presented him with his back, Bond noticed a tiny device on his right ear. That meant he was communicating with someone. The voice of the giant in front of him was frightening because it was laced hatred and viciousness. Bond was terribly scared, even though he was being ignored for now.

With two swift strokes that were accompanied by pained cries, the black man sliced the sinews in both of his victim’s elbows, before turning him around and repeating the gesture with his knees. When the man finally crouched back, bleeding profoundly, the tall intruder crouched down in front of him, “You should never have messed with this omega. I would never have gotten a chance to get back to you. But you kidnapped a MI6-agent. An omega, whose alpha is determined to get him back. He’s a scary little man and you should be grateful that I am here and not Q. Because I will grant you the mercy of shooting you, and not let you bleed to death in the middle of nowhere. Merci beaucoup, William.“

The ‘thank you’ was a shot in the stomach, condemning the man to die in agony. The black giant stood over the cramping body, looking down at him and touching his earpiece, listening. Slowly he turned around and directed his attention on the chained omega in the corner.

When he approached Bond and opened his chains with a device that seemed strangely familiar to Bond, the agent couldn’t help but curl in on himself. The man in front of him might have killed his captor, something he had wished to do for quite a while, but had done so in the most brutal manner. Therefore, Bond feared for his life as well. He was surprised, when a gentle hand started to pet his head. Small soothing noises calmed him down, though he was not able to comprehend what was going on.

When the man tried to help him stand, he pulled back in agony once again. Not only was his body soiled and useless after being chained to a wall for a perceivable eternity, his wrists were open and bleeding. What came next was a small mercy because after a hit from a giant black fist, everything went.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Back in headquarters Q lost his dinner into the nearest dustbin. Just like before, his immediate needs were met with a washcloth and a cup of tea. Unsure if his stomach could handle the drink, Q just nipped on it and tried to come to terms with the picture of his partner that had just been transmitted.

R was handling the African for now, and Q sat down – shaking all over – banishing the gruesome image, so that he would be able to function again and get both of his men to safety.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Victor Kaname was - without the slightest doubt - a most efficient man. He had used their directions to get to the terrorist-cells headquarter as a general guideline and had been able to reach the house in the middle of the night. After a thorough visual and technological examination, he had approached it in the early morning hours. With a silencer on his gun, he had been able to shoot all of the seven people currently living there and had saved Colebrook for last.

He had refrained from looking at Bond until the other alpha was dead. Q, too composed in his ear. He couldn’t risk the quartermaster losing it in the middle of the mission. After he had his revenge, he followed the command from Q to ‘forget the bloody bastard he is not important any more’ and to ‘get Bond the hell out of there’!”

Kaname was amazed that the other alpha did not wish to dwell on the alpha’s gruesome death, he sure as hell enjoyed the pain he had inflicted upon him. But the quartermaster seemed to forget about him as soon as Kaname had put the bullet into his stomach, extinguishing even the slightest possibility that the man would survive.

So, he finally turned around to look upon the desperate omega. The man was in an even worse state than his beloved Francis had been in when he had finally been allowed to retrieve the body. ‘All business’ had been the explanation. But when he was not even able to trust his own people; there was no use in remaining there.

MI6 had provided him with an unexpected, but nevertheless, welcome alternative. His heart was filled with hatred and with vengeance; he had made it his mission in life, to bring down William Sebastian Colebrook and everyone the man had worked with. Finally he had reached his goal, and although he could have turned around and left to build a new life for himself in Africa. He found that he was willing to return to England. He had started to like the far too young quartermaster and his minions that seemed so determined to help their superior. There was a familiarity to it he would not find anywhere else.

This kind of loyalty was what he was looking for. They valuing the life of an agent over an entire mission. It was a risk, he had been aware of that. But he had nothing to lose. Colebrook had taken everything of value from him, so from now on things could only go up. He was making a good start with saving this omega.

 

~ 007 ~

 

The omega in the corner was completely stressed out. Therefore Kaname saw only one option for a quick retreat: to knock him out. He had laced the house with explosives, and his sophisticated watch had just informed him, that they would blow up in four minutes and thirty seconds. He was shocked and relieved to find the man he had come to rescue was light to carry, although he was filthy beyond compare.

Grabbing a bottle of water, and two blankets from a sofa he left the house and placed his unconscious charge in the back of his jeep. He didn’t want to soil the seats. After a quick drive, he reached a hilltop nearby that overlooked the exploding house. For several long minutes, he reveled in the impression of the blazing flames, praying for his beloved Francis, finally saying good-bye.

When the heat died down and the sun rose in the sky, he turned towards his jeep, opening the bottle of water while ripping one blanket apart. After cleaning Bond of the filth he was covered in, he improvised a loincloth that would hold back the worst of his fluids and wrapped his wrists with bandages from the first aid kit. The antibiotic cream would do them good, but the agent needed professional help. After wrapping him into the other blanket – something the man clearly didn’t like – he positioned him on the backseat and buckled him up, before beginning his journey back to Uganda and the English embassy.

 

~ 007 ~

 

“The man at the front door has been identified as Victor Kaname. He is a known terrorist and I will NOT – under any circumstances – allow him access to English soil!” The voice from the leader of security of the British Embassy was determined and rather forceful, as was Q when he answered, “When I tell you, that both of these men are British citizens, than that’s what they are! And you will let them in immediately!“

The quartermaster was currently frustrated beyond compare. The ambassador seemed unable to react to his repeating phone-calls and ignored his text’s and the head of security might have a valid point, but was currently so not helping Q’s cause, that the quartermaster seriously considered turning off their electricity, just to prove that he was in no mood to be trifled with.

Both men breathed in relief when suddenly the ambassador approached the computer. His voice was confused and irritated when he started, “Mr. Q. I am delighted to see you. However, would you please care to explain why you are calling me repeatedly and bombarding me with text-messages when I am in negotiations with representatives of the Uganda ministry? These actions are rather distracting.“

Relieved beyond compare at the arrival of the leader of this house, Q explained his situation and swiftly the door was opened for the two ‘agents’ so that the English ambassador could return to his negotiations.

 

~ 007 ~

 

It took no more than thirty minutes, to assess Bond’s injuries and his mental condition, Precisely forty-two minutes after their arrival on English soil, Kaname was in a videoconference with Q. He looked tired, dirty, but showed a kind of peace he had lacked before. His voice was serious and concerned when he informed Q, “You need to come here, immediately. Your man is traumatized and completely out of his mind. He asked for you repeatedly.“

With a short nod towards his accomplices in crime, Q left to find Tanner. He needed to inform the Chief of Staff that he was about to take a nice, long holiday. Maybe somewhere warm. The states of Africa had been recommended to him, so he planned on going there. The Chief of Staff was not fooled for a minute, but instead of keeping his quartermaster in England, he ordered Q to take a gun and a radio with him. One could never know what might happen when taking a ‘vacation’.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Only two hours later Q found himself in the first class of a plane to Uganda. His usual fear of flying was overwritten by his desperation to reach his omega. But Kaname seemed to have been right. Bond had gone completely mental, because although the idea of ‘Q’ was circling constantly in his mind, he had no clear picture of his alpha any more. The image of Q was overlaid with impressions of Colebrook, and James’ mind was so hazed by the drugs, that his omega seemed unable to recognize Q’s attempts to reach him through their bond. Instead he partially shielded himself, pushed Q back and retreated into the safety of his own mind, without any conscious choice on his part.

After five hours, Q finally gave up and shut his eyes, tired and close to tears. His only valid hope was, that his omega would be able to recognize him by sight or smell. In his haste to pack, Q had simply thrown a handful of toiletries into his bag, followed by underwear and two sets of clothes for his agent and one for himself. Pulling his legs up on the comfortable seat, Q wrapped his arms around his knees and stared out into a night-sky that was illuminated by millions of stars. Silently he prayed, “One. Just one lucky star, is all we need. You have finally found me after being alone for more than thirty years James. I will not let you go so easily. Not now, not ever.”

 

~ 007 ~

 


	14. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first meeting between Bond and his true alpha does not go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some subtle changes in this chapter because I have not been happy with it when posting it the first time. Those of you who are 're-reading' this story might notice them. To those how are new, I hope you like it.

Victor Kaname looked well rested and was in a clean set of clothes, driving on of the embassy’s cars when he picked up Q from the airport. It was only a short ride so Q got right to the point. Exhausted by the long flight, he asked, „Do they now that James is …“ trailing off, unsure how to phrase that question without giving too much away.

He exhaled in relief when the black man answered with a small smile, „That you are his designated partner? They cannot be sure, but I think they are suspicious. It’s hard to confirm anything when Mr. Bond doesn’t allow anybody near him. He had to be partially shackled, because he tried to jump out of the window several times. It was either that, or sedating him. And with the amount of drugs currently in his system nobody wouldn’t risk it.“

A small growl escaped Q’s throat and made the driver wearily turn his head, as he was made slightly nervous by the fury the alpha radiated. Anger was a very dangerous incentive, made the actions of the man next to him nearly impossible to predict. He took a deep breath to answer Q’s question, which was more or less forced out between the clenched teeth of the quartermaster. “Who shackled my omega?”

„I did because I don’t mind being hit or bitten. Your boy is quite a handful, even when barely conscious.“ No stake; no claim. It was all for the good of the agent, Kaname felt the need to clarify that. Because after everything he had seen, Q was the kind of person he wanted on his side, not as an enemy.

Somehow placated by the statement the alpha forced himself to calm down. Bond was agitated enough for the both of them. The closer they came, the better he could feel his omega’s confusion, and no matter how hard he fought it, he was compelled to share it. He was the alpha, he had to be composed and in control if they wanted to get through this. He nodded slightly before asking, „What do we know so far?“

„That he hadn’t eaten in two days. He had barely slept if you don’t count the time he was unconscious on our eight-hour ride to Uganda. The doctor is unable to assess any injuries because he won’t let anybody touch him that isn’t you.“ Kaname painted a gruesome picture, but there was no way to sugarcoat the situation. Not when Q was about to see the state of his omega with his own eyes.

Apart from that, Q didn’t seem like somebody who needed to be spared the details. He was used to sending people into dangerous situations, watching them kill and guiding them to safety afterwards. It was astounding how much resolution could be contained in such a youthful body. But Kaname had no desire to underestimate anybody, least of all the quartermaster of the MI6. He had done so once and it had cost his beloved partner his life.

 

~ 007 ~

 

When Q entered the embassy he was mostly in control. He forced himself to make small talk with the ambassador, discuss security concerns with the head of security, rather than push them all aside, going for Bond. Kaname finally had mercy on him and promised to handle everything so that Q could go to the agent. Bond was currently secured in the last room on the left side, towards the back of the building. He also threw a set of keys in Q’s direction. Items that the young man accepted with a stormy face.

The garden was luscious during this time of the year and Q tried to draw in the tranquillity of the surroundings. His omega’s agitated and desperate mind was hard to suppress, especially when the alpha had no intention of shielding himself from it. Standing in front of the door, closing his eyes to draw on reservoirs of strength he hadn’t known he possessed, Q composed himself before entering.

What he saw there however nearly made him sway on his feet. Bond – who had lain on the bed before – desperately trying to satisfy his bodily needs huddled into a corner the instant he saw someone entering. His eyes were huge and frightened when they took in Q’s form, cringing to make the smallest target possible.

Q forced a calm smile on his face, before approaching his partner with open hands to show that they were empty. Gently and hushed he spoke to his partner, assuring him, „I am here now James. Everything is going to be alright.“

He slowly approached the frightened man and crouched down before him before trying to tenderly pet the unruly hair. But Bond only drew back further, practically crawling into the corner, covering his head and his body the best way he could with his too thin limbs. And when he talked for the first time, with an anxious and raspy voice, Q thought that his heart would break.

„GO! Go away! You can’t touch me. I want Q. Please … I just want Q!“

The young man looked at his omega as if the man had just slapped him. Slowly, shaking he retreated from the man in the corner, only to slide down the wall on the opposite side of the room. His omega didn’t recognize him.

 

~ 007 ~

 

His omega was so heavily traumatized that he didn’t recognize him!

This thought alone made Q want to kill William Colebrook all over again, and he fiercely wished that the death of this horrible man had been long and painful. With a shaking breath he fought past the panic that threatened to drown him, and tried to accesses the situation from a logical point of view.

First: Bond was clearly drugged to his teeth. After a brief calculation Q estimated that he had been in the hands of his captors for at least two weeks. Even if they hadn’t started with the ‘therapy’ right away, it was very likely that he had received the drugs Colebrook had developed for more than a week.

Second: Due to the horrible stuff in his veins, Bond smelled wrong. Not because he was sweaty and in heat. His unique fragrance, something that should only intensify during a heat-cycle, was off. Q couldn’t put his finger on the difference, but when passing this man on the street, with his shields up, he wouldn’t recognize him as his omega.

Third: How should he deal with this situation if Bond couldn’t identify him, couldn’t trust him and couldn’t accept his help?

Broken-hearted, Q looked at the man in the corner that frantically tried to get off, as discretely as possible, eyes firmly glued to the threat Q presumably posed. He was still huddled in the corner and if Q didn’t know the little noises James made during intercourse by heart, he wouldn’t have known what was going on, because the omega tried his very best to be as still and as unmoving as possible.

The problem was, his omega was just wearing himself out. The only thing that could ease his burning body was his alpha mounting him, coming inside of him. Only their combined hormones and fluids would satisfy James body sufficiently. But mounting him now would bore on rape and Q had no intention to do that, even if he would be completely within his legal rights. A claimed omega was, more or less, the property of his alpha and whenever the alpha did, the omega was expected to allow it. Legally there was no chance of ‘rape’ between an alpha-omega-paring, morally however things appeared very different from Q’s point of view.

The clinking of the chain that confided Bond made Q raise his head again. He had concentrated on the wood beams between his legs. Not looking up to allow his omega at least a minuscule degree of privacy while masturbating. He knew that he should depart, allow the drug to leave James’ system. But after everything Bond had been through, Q saw himself unable to let him out of his sight. No matter if he was wanted here or not.

Bond had tried to reach the window on the side of the room once again. Q now got a good look of a sturdy chain that connected a shackle on Bond’s ankle to the iron-bedpost. Clearly starved and weak the agent was unable to overcome this obstacle, although Q knew, that in a different setting, that chain would not hold 007 for more than thirty seconds. Carefully, so that he would not frighten the man again he asked, „Where do you want to go?“

 

~ 007 ~

 

Anxious because he had hoped to be forgotten by the other man in his room, Bond cowered once more. But when the stranger made no move towards him, didn’t reprimand or worse punish him for his attempt to escape, he explained whispered, „I need to get out and return to Q. He’s my alpha.“

„And why is that?“ the young man with the big glasses turned his head a little and looked at him expectantly. „Why not wait here until he comes for you?”

Terribly ashamed Bond hid his face behind his arms when answering, „I need to find him so that I can apologize. I did something terrible and he sent me here. I needed to be punished to learn my lesson. The other alpha did that, for a very long time. But then a black man came and killed him and dragged me here. Q still has to be angry with me, otherwise he would have come.“

Once again Bond was drowned by sorrow and when the other man kneeled down next to him, tenderly brushing over his arms, he couldn’t help himself but lean into that touch. He was so tired, so lonely and he needed – something, anything, any form of contact that was not cruel and hurting – so desperately, that he would take it even from this stranger. Q would be so ashamed of him, he knew it, but Bond simply couldn’t help himself any more. He wanted peace so badly, to feel safe for only a few minutes to gather up his strength. He was sure that he would be able to think past the dizziness and find a way to make amends with his alpha. Convince him that he could be good, worthy of being taken in again.

When the other man nudged him towards the bed it was easier to comply than putting up a fight. The young man with the dark hair leaned against the headboard and allowed Bond to place his head on his lap, gently dragging his fingers through his sticky hair with a comforting motion. The man whispered something, but Bond didn’t have the capacity to understand it any more. He was terrified at the prospect of his alpha detesting him, of having sent him away without a chance to return. But after a little while he felt enveloped by calm and serene feelings. He couldn’t understand where they were coming from and was too tired and too grateful to question them. After an eternity he finally drifted into a restful sleep.

 

~ 007 ~

 

When Bond finally lost consciousness Q was relieved beyond compare. His omega might not recognize him, but they were still connected, and when the alpha concentrated, he was able to push past his omega’s resistance and influence him like he had been able to before this disaster had begun. Feelings of tranquillity and serenity had allowed the agent to fall into a deep sleep. So not everything was lost and that thought alone gave Q the strength to carry on.

While Bond couldn’t accept him as his alpha, Q still could soothe the desperate omega’s body. He was able to be the controlling force of his mind and support him emotionally when he was awake. Bond had subconsciously accepted his influence and for starters that was enough.

The young quartermaster allowed himself to drift off to sleep but was woken by the quiet knocking of Kaname who checked in on him some time later. Inviting the tall African into the room – leaving Bond right now was completely out of the question – they started to discuss the most convenient course of action for the days to come.

The drug needed to leave Bond’s system before they could consider returning to England. They needed his blood to analyse the drug and maybe even come up with an antidote. But first and most importantly, the agent needed a proper shower and food. Currently, he looked not even strong enough to support his own weight, let alone travel the world.

Worried, Kaname advised, „You shouldn’t sleep here Q. The last alpha he had encountered had kidnapped and tortured him. As long as he doesn’t know who you are, it’s not safe to sleep next to him. They have prepared a guest room for you. Please, just come with me. If he is out cold, he won’t even realize you are gone,“ the words were laced with honest concern, but Q just shook his head.

„You have no designation, do you?“ Q’s asked the other. When Kaname shook his head he continued, “I am aware that you – unfortunately – have been dragged into the middle of a soul-bond going haywire. If you wish to leave you can do so right now. I will check in with Tanner and he will get you back to England within the next day. I won’t hold it against you. But I am no more able to leave him, than he is able to suppress the reaction of his body due to the drug.

„I am his alpha. I am responsible for him, no matter what happens. But, apart from that, I have complete faith in James Bond. His mind conscious might not be able to recognize me, but look at him, how peacefully he is sleeping. This is MY doing, and I will stay with him and help in any way possible.“

Aware that there was no arguing with an alpha over his omega, Kaname promised, „I will get you breakfast in the morning. But I recommend leaving the keys in a drawer and not on you. Your friend is a sneaky little bastard and has tried to bail twice already.“ An uncharacteristically gentle smile dampened his harsh words, so Q simply offered said keys and watched Kaname when he placed them in a drawer next to the door. They were comfortable to reach, but unable to retrieve for Bond while he was chained to the bed.

After looking at his omega for several minutes, Q decided that – while he trusted James completely – the same didn’t go for the rest of the personnel of the embassy. Therefore, he gently extracted himself from the taller man, and set up an improvised security system with his laptop and his mobile phone. After locking the door, he hid the keys in a secret compartment of his travelling bag before returning to the bed. Gently he pushed his omega towards the middle of the bed, and stretched out behind him. After closing his arms around his omega, he was finally able to get some well-deserved sleep.

 

~ 007 ~

 

A knock on the door woke him. A look at his watch told him, that he had slept for more than nine hours. Kissing his agent’s head, he rose from the bed and retrieved the keys to open the door. With a worried gaze towards the bed Kaname offered a tablet and a steaming pot of coffee with some flatbread as well as jam and butter. They briefly discussed the security detail the embassy had placed on Bond and Q and their plans to get a doctor to check on them around ten.

The African also informed Q that R had called in and that he had explained their situation to him and Tanner over a secured connection on his phone. The Chief of Staff had told him that he wanted all three of them back in London within a week. The doctors would have the last word in that matter, but for now the quartermaster had no choice but to accept the deadline.

When he locked the door again, he faced a very worried Bond who had retreated to the head of the bed, arms wound protectively around his knees. Q considered this an improvement over the corner. So he simply sat down the tablet between them and started to prepare two coffees, one with sugar and milk, the other one with only a little milk in it. When he offered the cup to the man in front of him it was taken with shaking hands and the gesture was accompanied by a whispered question, „When you have fed me, will you drug me again?“

„No, I will not drug you. You can trust me.“ Q’s voice was calm and even, although the pain and wariness in his partner’s voice threatened to suffocate him. He prepared a piece of bread with butter and jam and offered it to James, but instead of taking it from his hands as Q had expected, Bond simply leaned forward and took a cautious bite, not letting Q out of his eyes. The mere thought that his omega had been forced to eat like an animal from the hands of his owner inflamed a murderous fury in Q’s chest. From the silent whimper of distress from the man in front of him, he had not been able to conceal these emotions very well.

After a calming sip from his own coffee – oh my god how much caffeine did they put in these things, this cup alone would keep Q awake for two days! – he took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. He ate a bite of the bread in his hand, before offering James the last piece. It took a few seconds for the omega to approach him again, but this time his eyes were lowered in submission as he complied with the unspoken wishes of the man in front of him and ate. Q suppressed a sigh. They had a long way to go.

After the second piece of bread, Q was able to encourage Bond to take the meal into his own hand. His agent nibbled on it clearly reverently. With silent disbelief, he gratefully accepted the third, the fourth and even the fifth piece of bread and butter, but after that, he claimed to be satisfied. Well aware that that couldn’t be the case, Q decided to let it slide nevertheless, because they had shared the meal in equal parts. It seemed to distress the omega to eat more than the alpha in front of him.

After placing the tablet in front of the door, he picked up two bottles of water that had been placed there. He took the keys with him when returning to the bed. Once there he offered, „If you promise to remain here I will remove your shackles, so that you can take a shower.“

Wordlessly Bond offered his leg and Q removed the chain. The quartermaster was on his way to the bathroom to start the shower when he heard his agent opening the door and running. With a disappointed sigh, Q dashed after him. As soon as he saw his omega, he shouted with all the dominance he could muster: „JAMES STOP!“

The effect was immediate; the man froze in his movement. Shivering profoundly, he waited for Q to approach him, looking at the floor all the time waiting for the inevitable punishment.

Q placed himself in the personal space of his agent and ordered in a very angry voice: „You will NOT lie to me! Not even by implication.

„You will do exactly as I say!

„If you disobey me one more time, I will leave you here, all on your own. Have I made myself clear?“

Bond was a picture of anxious misery in front of Q, but the alpha knew that he couldn’t let this one slide. Never before had he felt the need to dominate James for his own good, but now he simply saw no other chance.

Forcefully he overwhelmed the omega with his presence, shouted at him in the physical as well as in the mental plane to drive the message home. He detested having his partner chained down, but leaving the room, trying to escape – in his weakened state – was simply not an option.

That his message had been received became clear when the agent fell to his knees in front of him, covering his head with his arms, as if expecting a beating. His voice was thick with unshed tears when he whispered, „I will obey. I promise. I will do whatever you say, but please, please help me to get me back to Q. I will be good, I swear! Please.“

Desperate and frightened eyes looking up to him from the floor threatened to weaken Q’s resolve. But the alpha was too scared for his partner to leave anything to chance. Offering his hand he warned: „Don’t disappoint me.“

With a frantic nod, the agent reached for the offered hand and allowed the man to drag him to his feet.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Returning to their room, Bond entered the bathroom and took his first hot shower in over a month, like the other alpha wanted him to. When the dark-haired man entered, supplying him with shower gel and shampoo he hesitated for a moment. He was an alpha, Bond could smell it, but instead of making use of Bond’s needy state, the man had refrained from touching him intimately. He couldn’t be sure, but Bond suspected that he had even slept next to him last night. But still, he hadn’t claimed him.

It could be the same as with Colebrook. The other alpha had always taunted him but never actually fucked him. It would have eased Bond’s desires and that was not what the other had wanted. But this man didn’t seem to have any desire to humiliate him. That he had berated him just now had been James own fault. He really couldn’t hold it against him. And he had not even punished him, although this was still a possibility. But for now the alpha was satisfied with the omegas compliance. Maybe James could really do this, pacify the other by showing himself obedient. Maybe this man would even help him to get back to Q.

Revelling in the delicious scents of the toiletries, Bond tried once more to satisfy his demanding body’s needs. But no matter how hard he stroked his cock, how desperately he tried to fill his empty whole, no orgasm would come and he was frustrated and close to tears when he emerged from the bathroom more than thirty minutes later.

When the young man joked about him using up all the hot water he expected punishment again, sure that he had overdone it this time. First the disobedience and now the use of all the available resources so that the other would not be able to take a hot shower himself. Truth was, he hadn’t been aware how long he had remained in the shower. But the statement that the water was cold was true nevertheless.

James had enjoyed it; the cool drops on his feverish skin had been a small form of comfort. Now he would have to pay for that. Approaching the man, shivering slightly, he wanted to see this through, aware that drawing out any punishment would only make it worse. But instead of castigation, he was provided with pants, soft trousers and a grey t-shirt.

He felt kind of dumbfounded by the teasing words of the man in front of him, „I thought you might like some clothes. Unless you prefer to walk around naked.“

Hastily he shook his head and slid on the soft and comfortable clothes. This alpha was truly caring, though Bond could not distinguish why. He was aware that his heat seemed to be subsiding because while he was still leaking, he was able to tolerate the fabric on his body without itching all over. Dragging his hands over the soft material in reverence, he was a little confused when the young man announced that now he – regardless of the lack of hot water – would take a shower.

Bond couldn’t help looking after him, when he dragged off his shirt and threw it on the bed on his way towards the shower. He saw a silver chain around the young man’s neck and some small plate reflecting in the morning light. Something inside of him reacted to that picture, but when he tried to reach for the memory he felt confused again and was forced to give up.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Q had informed Kaname that he would take a shower now, and that Bond was alone, unshackled in an unlocked room. To his amazement, the agent sat on the couch in the corner, knees up his chest, looking at him rather intently. When Q put on a spare set of clothes, he checked his computer logs and his mobile. He suppressed a tiny smile, when he realized that a call had been made, a call to their flat in London. The number had not been called from the address book, but typed in. Technically he had not forbidden Bond to use his mobile. He had just made it clear that he was to stay in their room.

So although he looked at the man after checking his mobile, he still put it aside without a word before sitting down in front of James. Bond couldn’t recognize him as his alpha, so he had to remain a ‘neutral’ party, until such time as he remembered. The fact that he was able to influence his omega on a basic level was enough to sustain his hope that this would happen at some point.

He informed the man in front of him what was to happen today. When he talked about the doctor, the agent became white as a sheet and started to shake all over. He whispered, frightened, „He will hurt me. He will drug me again so then it will get worse once more. Because I have been bad, right? This is my punishment for trying to get away.“

Shaking his head, Q stood up sitting down next to the omega.

The man refrained from looking up while Q explained, „No, James, he will not drug you again. He will hurt you a little that is true, but only because he needs your blood. I will not allow anybody to punish you. I promise.“ Forcing the man to look at him with a gentle nudge on his chin Q looked into the eyes of his omega and asked. „Do you believe me?“

He allowed the worn down man an extensive inspection, both on the physical as well as on the mental plain where he felt faint brushes of James mind reaching towards his.

The omega took in the eyes, the posture, the body language, the tone of his voice and his soft touch before nodding slowly. Tentatively he asked, “Why are you helping me? “

Relieved at the unspoken affirmation of trust, Q answered, „Because you deserve this, no matter what this bastard Colebrook tried to convince you off.“

„How can you be so sure?“ The desperate hope for this to be true was almost tangible at that question.

Despite his need to comfort his omega, Q took his time with his answer. Gently brushing over the agent’s wet hair, he revelled in the fact that the man allowed it without a flinch before assuring him, “Because if I were your alpha I wouldn’t want you to be punished any more. You have been through enough. I would want to take care of you. But you need to trust me for me to be able to do this. Can you do that James? Can you trust me to get you out of this safely?“

 

~ 007 ~

 

Leaning into the gentle hand Bond curled up on the sofa, placing his head in the young man’s lap hoping for the caresses to continue. No one had asked him such a thing. Or if they had, he couldn’t remember. He was scared right now, terribly scared because he expected the hand that petted him to hit him the next moment. Because he expected the friendly voice that asked for his trust to call him weak and useless in a minute. Still he could only cling on to the hope that this man was speaking the truth. That he really wanted to help and take care of him.

He was aware that he was not much, nothing at all right now, useless and weak. As evidenced by the fact that he was barely able to formulate coherent sentences, although that had gotten better and better over the last few days. Nevertheless, his body was still burning. He desperately wished for this alpha to mount him and ease this burning. A part of him cursed the modesty of this man. His hands didn’t even retreat below the waistline. God, he had even given him clothes to cover himself!

Bond tried to find an explanation for this modest behaviour but couldn’t think of anything. Everybody expected something; no one gave anything freely, not his support, not his help and definitely not his protection. Nobody, except his own alpha. He couldn’t remember much, but he knew that Q had always been there for him. No matter where he had been, no matter how he had behaved. He must have truly done something truly horrible for his alpha to have sentenced him to this hell. Still, this other man was here, taking care of him. If he found Bond worthy of his trust, maybe Q would too upon his return.

Bond was afraid to ask, because he dreaded the answer, but he couldn’t help himself. Reluctantly he whispered, „Do you know what I have done? Just so I know not to repeat the same mistake in the future and disappoint him again.“ Most alphas thought alike, or so he believed, despite this young man contradicting in word and deed everything Colebrook had said and done. If the young man could remember his mistake, maybe he could advise him of how to avoid it in the future.

The young man above him flinched and instantly Bond braced himself for a hit, but instead of a penalty for the question the caresses continued. The older man even received a seemingly hesitant answer, „I don’t think you did anything wrong. I think you were there by mistake. I can’t think of any circumstances where an alpha would want his omega to be hurt.“

„When I have done nothing worth being punished for, I still did something wrong. Because otherwise I would not have ended up in that cellar.“ The answer came after a few minutes of thinking on Bond’s part. Somehow it was a relief. He could live far better with the concept of himself making a mistake than to belief that he had done something so horrible, that his alpha had deemed the torture of the last weeks a suitable punishment.

When there was a knock on the door and the young man left him on the sofa to answer it, the agent felt a little better. He could learn from his own mistakes once he remembered what had happened. If Q was not angry with him, then everything was going to be alright. He would be able to return home, and his alpha would welcome him. Everything would be back to the way it was supposed to be. At least so Bond hoped.

 

~ 007 ~

 

When a white clad man entered the room, followed by the black giant that had rescued him and killed his captor, Bond looked at the alpha for guidance. Following the unspoken invitation of his extended hand, he walked to the bed and sat down on it, sceptically looking at the newcomer. The calm, deep voice from his saviour introduced the physician, „Bond, Q, this is Doctor Noland he will take a sample of Bond’s blood and hopefully come up with an antidote.“

Hearing the name of his alpha Bond looked at the young man with wide-eyes.

Everything that had happened pushed forth in his mind. This young man had remained with him ever since his arrival yesterday afternoon, not long after his arrival in the embassy, frantically demanding his alpha. After his arrival he had comforted him and slept beside him to guard him. He had commanded him and afterwards allowed him the luxury of personal hygiene unsupervised for the first time in weeks. He was looking at him with such longing, when he thought that Bond wasn’t watching, but always kept his distance regardless of his desires. The man, who had promised to get him back to safety, all the while doing everything to keep him safe while they were here.

His voice was calm and authoritarian, when he positioned himself between Bond and the doctor like a body shield protecting the anxious and confused omega once again, before offering his hand in greeting, „Doctor Noland, I am glad that you are able to make time for us. Regrettably we have no idea, what kind of drug we are dealing with. I hope you can enlighten us so that we may find a way to rid Mr. Bond’s system of it, as fast as possible.“

„I can’t guarantee anything, but for a friend of the ambassador, I am willing to try. Please understand Mr. Q that …“ the doctor stopped talking when Bond stood up from the bed demanding their attention, well, at least the alphas.

„You are Q?“ the agent had approached the trio, looking at Q in desperate hope and daunting disbelief. „How can this be when I don’t recognize you?”

 

~ 007 ~

 

Bond’s voice was nearly inaudible over the doctor’s words, but it resonated in Q’s mind hundredfold, longing, hoping, but so terribly confused. Turning from the doctor towards his omega, searching for a spark of recognition in his eyes, exhaling in despair when there was none, he simply chose to nod and answered, „I am. It’s the drug that keeps you from recognizing me.“

The voice from the omega in front of him was agitated and strong, as were the hands that encircled Q’s arms, leaving bruises in their wake, clinging onto the younger man like he was the only anchor he had in this terrifying world. „But how can we be one when I don’t recognize you, when you don’t feel right?“

Shaking his head towards Kaname, who seemed ready to tear his omega away because he was clearly hurting the young man, Q locked his eyes with the man in front of him. Licking his lips before closing his mouth deliberately, he solemnly relied on their bond to get the message across when promising: ~You will James. You will remember me and I will feel right again, I promise you. And I will stay with you until then, no matter how long it takes. I will NOT leave you until everything is how it should be again!~

Having no choice but to believe, choosing to believe because his mind was unable to deny the powers this young man had over him, Bond stepped closer and buried himself in the smaller frame, winding his arms around the slender body holding him close. After a heartbeat, he felt two long limbs surrounding him. One hand resting on the small of his back, while the other was placed gently on his neck, directly below the hairline. There was no petting this time, no soothing motion, they just lay there, holding him safe and strong, and for the first time since he could remember, he felt absolutely safe.

 

~ 007 ~

 


	15. Intercourse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally James get's what he needs.

Unashamed of the emotions displayed in front of strangers, Q remained unmoving with his omega in his arms, simply content to have James close once again. Despite all their previous contact, he only now remembered that Bond smelled all wrong. Maybe that was the reason why his omega couldn’t identify him, a shift in his body-chemistry that largely influenced his brain.

When James desperate clutch eased a little, he retreated a little to face his guests. Still Q held him close, while he allowed himself to speculate about the drug that had been used, “I am willing to make the wild guess that the drug is shifting his body-chemistry. I know this seems kind of obvious, considering that an artificial heat was induced, but I can tell by his smell. He doesn’t smell right for me, and he can’t identify me either, maybe due to the trauma his body was, is suffering. It is as if his body has been shifted sideways. I realize that this mustn’t make a lot of sense, but I can’t explain it any better.”

Carefully examining the two men in front of him, the doctor took his time to answer. He had treated a few bond-mates before, but never before an alpha and an omega. The bond between representatives of these designations was the strongest known to mankind. The mere idea that it could be ‘hidden’ was unheard of.

He was well aware, that – while the mental influence seemed to be overwhelming (the older man had reacted to a telepathic message from his alpha) – his body was not calmed down the same degree, as the presence of his alpha usually should enable it to be. Mr. Bond was still nervous, agitated and clearly aroused. Although his partner was right beside him, he made no movements to present himself or to seduce his alpha. Every biological instinct seemed to be going haywire with these two. Making an educated guess, the doctor pondered, “I think your description is not that far off Mr. Q.”

He felt like an idiot addressing the young man with only a single letter. But working for the government – of several countries in fact – had taught him when it was inappropriate to ask questions. Therefore, he refrained from commenting further on the strange ‘name’ before continuing, “The drug might be a synthesized hormone from another omega in heat. But I can only confirm or deny this suspicion, until I have tested a sample of his blood.”

 

~ 007 ~

 

The alpha – HIS alpha, Bond mentally corrected himself – seemed as reluctant to let go of him as he was to separate himself from the man’s arms, but Q did so never the less. A small spark of satisfaction ignited in Bond’s chest when he noticed the feeling. The knowledge that he was not the only one with a dire need for contact was a little relieving. Therefore, he sat down and relaxed visibly when Q sat down next to him, putting a hand on his thigh comfortingly when the doctor took a blood sample.

After a brief chat about the next steps, the doctor left.

Suddenly, the computer made a strange noise and instantly the quartermaster was at the laptop, putting the machine on the coffee table and started typing away swiftly. A hidden device was pulled out of the folds of his bag and placed in his ear. Within a few moments, he was in a conference with two other people that too seemed to have their names reduced to simple letters.

Kaname gestured Bond to follow him outside, but after a swift look towards, his alpha the agent shook his head. Q had been rather furious when he had tried to get away, he didn’t want to risk angering him once more. Not when he finally felt like he was getting into the good graces of his alpha again.

Kaname snickered, while offering a cigarette, “Just for a quick smoke? Q won’t miss you, I promise.”

Still unsure how to proceed, he looked doubtful, but when the young man stopped mid-sentence and raised his head to smile at him with an assuring nod, Bond felt himself mirroring the smile before following the black man. Gratefully, he accepted the cigarette and inhaled deeply. The nicotine should dampen his burning desires, and the chance to leave the room was too good to let pass.

They were wandering through the vast garden when Bond finally spoke up after having finished his smoke, “I realize that I haven’t thanked you for getting me out. I am sorry that I hurt you afterwards.”

Showing his brilliant white teeth, Kaname laughed in earnest, “Please. You were in no state to really do any real damage. And what happened was worth the bruises.”

“You hated him, didn’t you?” Bond’s voice was a little more level now, clearly above the anxious whisper he had communicated in over the last few days. But he was still reluctant, as if afraid to be castigated for the question even when the black man clearly had no designation.

Victor Kaname however looked at the Englishman with a serious expression before explaining, “He took someone who was as important for me, as you seem to be for Q.”

After a few moments, when Bond said nothing Kaname asked deliberately, “You don’t remember him at all, do you?”

Lighting another cigarette, it was Bond now who took his time with the answer, “Yes and no. It’s hard to explain.”

“Do you want to try?” When Kaname recognized the agent’s uncertain look, he smiled a little and admitted, “Before you can ask, no we never met before, at last not before I got you out of there. But considering our mutual hate for Colebrook we do share a connection. And what do you know talking might actually help you. If you feel better I can promise that whatever you say will remain confidential. I won’t even tell Q if you don’t want me to.” He gestured for his lips to be zipped close before he smiled again, encouragingly this time.

Bond hesitated. He didn’t feel especially comfortable discussing his confusing with a complete stranger. But understanding that Q was his alpha, accepting it because so many things fit with that picture, was irritating as hell especially when the man simply didn’t feel right! And all of that was made more frustrating by the nearly overwhelming desire to be fucked into the mattress by someone who didn’t seem to care.

Finding a place between the roots of a luscious tree, whose branches offered shadow Bond sat down and squirmed a little before finding a comfortable position. His need to be filled by someone, something, anything, really was overwhelming, but without the memories of his alpha it simply felt wrong to allow it. After a few minutes of peace he started silently, “You have called him Q and I understand that that’s who he is. Everything fit’s to perfectly for him to be anybody else and a part of me feels good when he touches me, but it was nearly the same with the other alpha, Colebrook. It’s so close to being perfect but something is missing. Does this even make sense?

“The Q in there overwhelms my mind, I recognize the mental connection we have and the power he wields over me effortlessly. But despite all that, there is still something wrong, and I don’t know what to make of it. I can’t tell what he expects from me, although – as his omega – I should know.”

“So in a nutshell you are saying that you don’t know Q. You don’t know what he wants and that worries you.” Was the on-the-point summary of the dark-skinned man.

With a reluctant sigh Bond nodded. It might sound simple, but as an omega he felt the overwhelming desire to submit and to serve. He didn’t want to be worthless. He wanted to fulfil his alpha’s needs and desires. But he didn’t know the man in this room. He couldn’t even remotely fathom his wishes regarding Bond’s behaviour.

Kaname asked, “He must have talked to you. What has he asked of you?”

Remembering the only real encounter they had Bond repeated, “He shouted at me that I must never lie to him! That he expected me to obey and threatened to not bring me back to my alpha if I didn’t. But he was, I mean he IS my alpha; therefore, his threat at that time didn’t even make sense because he knew all the time!

His mind, his presence overwhelmed me completely, commanded my body more than my own mind did. I should have known by then but I didn’t. I still don’t, not really, despite everything he had said and done.”

“To be honest, that does not sound very complicated to me. Q, expects you not to lie to him and to do as he says. Even if this is really hard for you, I strongly suggest you try to submit to his will. Your alpha is worth it, believe me. I have seen this young man out of his mind with worry, willing – and able – to bend heaven and hell to get you out of there. You should give him some credit for that. You wouldn’t be here without him.”

Keeping that in mind, Bond felt a little calmer when they returned. At the door he asked for a pot of tea, Earl Grey preferably, and when Kaname asked him why, he simply stated that Q liked to drink it during his work. Only when he closed the door behind himself, did he become aware that he knew something about the stranger on the couch no one else here had known. So there was a connection after all, because Bond’s desire to get him what he wanted had come completely out of the blue. But it felt good to do something so trivial when no one else had thought about.

 

~ 007 ~

 

When the tea arrived, he provided Q with a cup and retreated to the bed. The young man seemed rather agitated and angered by something on his computer, so Bond chose not to interrupt. Slowly, very slowly, the tension drained out of Bond’s body and made room for the desire flaring up again. He watched Q, who looked up to him occasionally, smiling most of the time, and tried to figure out what this young man meant to him.

When Q’s body language showed that he had stopped working, he asked cautiously, “You really are my alpha, aren’t you?” When Q simply nodded, he continued a little bolder, “Then why don’t you claim me? You know my body is ready for you.”

Bond wasn’t sure if he asked this question on Q’s behalf or his own. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be claimed. But the lust threatened to drown him once more, and there was an alpha that could ease the burning. The problem was, the alpha still didn’t feel like ‘his’ alpha. It still felt like cheating. But right now someone, anyone was better than being allowed to think, to stagger through a situation where he was blind. Fucking would at least take the edge off.

He was surprised and a little nervous when Q approached him and placed a gentle hand on his thigh. A part of him wished to be left alone, but his burning body arched into contact. His reeling mind craved the distraction, anything to ease the burning desire that sang through his veins and the endless questions that drove him crazy.

But instead of advancing, Q simply stated with a smile, “I don’t need to claim you. You already belong to me. No need to prove it, neither to you nor to myself.”

“Why?” Bond bent desperately into the touch, angrily wishing for it to continue, to build up until he could lose himself in it. After such a long time of need, he was finally willing to give in, if only to feel a moment’s peace, the one small orgasm he had been deprived of for such a long time. To feel like he was worth being taken, no matter what that dreadful man in that cellar had convinced him of day after day.

Smiling, Q brushed a strand of Bond’s hair out of his sweaty face, when he answered, “Because I can feel you in my mind. I can feel you in my blood. I don’t need more proof. I can hold out until you are ready for me. Until you can remember and it feels right again.”

“But what if it will never feel right again? What if I will never be ready? You want me, I know you do! Why don’t you get it over with and take me?!” Bond was nearly shouting now. He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want a decision. He was biologically compelled to obey, and all he wanted was a simple order from this alpha, so that he knew where he stood. He wanted to feel needed and useful and not like a broken piece of glass no one was willing to make use of.

Being in heat had been horrible before. But being around an alpha, unable to persuade him to fuck him – while at the same time detesting this very thought – was a torture in itself, and Bond just wanted it to stop! He didn’t want to have a choice right now. He wanted to be used and approved of because as long as his mind was in a haze, there was nothing else of value he could do for this alpha.

He was prepared for the decision. Prepared to be fucked or rejected. It would hurt either way, but he couldn’t hold out any longer. Therefore, he was completely dumbfounded when his alpha mirrored his question of, “Why should I?”

With a harsh snarl, he rolled off the bed and walked off his agitation by pacing the generously large room. His voice was mocking, and increased in intensity when he started shouting: “What do you mean >Why?< You are the genius; surely you, of all people, can make sense of it. I am an omega, your omega! Your body language, your actions, even your bloody mind has convinced me of that. So why don’t you make fucking use of me when there is nothing else I am good for? You know you want it, and you would be doing me a favour. You know about the goddamn drug. It circulates through my veins, makes me willing and open, and yet you still sit on that bed with a bloody arrogant smile on your face and watch me fighting the inevitable! Why don’t you spare me the humiliation when my body wants you so desperately and make at least use of the damaged good that I am, instead of looking down at me with pity? Because I can tell you one thing, oh mighty alpha, your blasted attitude drives me up the wall!”

 

~ 007 ~

 

“That’s my boy.”

The words were more of a relieved whisper than an actual statement. Q had watched his omega rant and shout with increasing joy. THAT was the James Bond he knew. Someone who fought against the odds for what he wanted, even in the most hopeless of situations. He was sure now, that his omega would fight him off, if the contact were too much for him. He was ready to stand up for himself once again; something Q had not believed him able to, only one hour earlier.

Therefore, he stepped up to his agent, who was looking down at him with clenched fists, breathing heavily, before taking his face between his slim fingers and dragging him down for a kiss. After a moment’s hesitation, James made a choking sound before wrapping his arms around Q and returned the kiss with vengeance. His body was hot, far too hot, but Q had no problem with his partner’s physical reaction. They had gone through two heats. During the first they had bonded. The second had merely been an excellent excuse to spend a week in bed toppling over each other time and time again.

Within a few moments, he had relieved his agent of his sweaty clothes. Grabbing his neck with one hand and encircling his stiff member with the other, he began to stroke the man slowly and tantalizing. The heat was artificial; therefore, Q wasn’t as affected by it as he used to. Still he was more than able to provide for his omega as long as he was needed. There were other ways to satisfy an aroused body, and Bond whimpered at Q’s touch and leaned into it as much as possible.

Q knew that James had not been allowed or able to come on his own for the last week; therefore, he ordered his omega to relieve him of his clothes, while providing much desired friction on his partner’s best asset. The agent was only too willing to comply, and after a minute, both stood in the middle of the room, kissing feverishly while Q stroked Bond to his first orgasm.

With each passing moment, the moans and movements grew more and more desperate. Bond tried to coax his alpha into claiming him, something the young man did with pleasure. James enjoyed the feeling of soft fingertips that buried themselves in the skin over his hipbones, leaving bruises in their wake because he needed something to concentrate on, when Q circled his member with swift strokes, circling his thumb over the crown to add more lubricant and make the motion all the more pleasurable for Bond.

When the agent finally came, Q swallowed his shouts with a demanding kiss, before he leaned into his alpha, shaking. Bond looked at the young man with big eyes, when Q raised his hand and licked his cum from the heel of his hand with a provocative flick of his tongue. Unable to withstand the erotic picture, Bond reached for the wrist rather forcefully, before bringing the hand to his mouth and licking it clean, not breaking eye contact with his alpha. He revelled in the picture of the alpha’s pupils blown so wide that the black overwhelmed the warm chocolate-brown.

Nudging the younger man towards the bed, Bond crawled over him when Q fell back watching him. The eyes of this alpha were truly intoxicating, zoning in on him as if he was the most important person on this planet. And for one moment, for this exact heartbeat, Bond could almost believe that.

It was not hard to give in to his desires when he leaned in, nipping and kissing his way from Q’s collarbone over his chest right down to his pelvis, which was covered with the faintest wisp of dark hair, dark hair that led to a definitely impressive cock. Being consumed by an incomprehensible hunger, Bond zoned in on this body part as if hypnotised by it. It was a cock; just another cock like the one the Colebrook had teased him with. But this one was different, this one felt right, and he looked up when Q stroked his hair and whispered, “All yours.”

He didn’t need more encouragement before diving in and swallowing him whole. He gagged a little because the moment the member had entered the hot and needy mouth of his omega, Q arched off the bed. Enjoying that immensely, Bond used every trick in his book to drive the younger man crazy with lust. Within minutes he had him swearing and thrashing on the bed, and he planned to enjoy every last drop the alpha would give him, when gentle fingers stopped him. Looking up with a pleading look, he reluctantly let go when the young man shook his head, whispering gently, “No matter how much I want this, it’s not what you require right now. Come up, James. Take what you need.”

His mind fought past the clouds of desire, and the mere thought of mounting his alpha overwrote every other craving. Dragging himself up, he sealed Q’s lips with a needy kiss when he positioned himself over the wet shaft, sliding down on it slowly. He knew that he didn’t need to prepare himself. A week of unrequited desire was enough to prepare his body, and he hissed sharply when he bottomed out and felt Q’s lean body under him.

Right this moment he caught up on the surrealism of the situation. He was an omega, how could he dare to be on top instead of being mounted? He stilled anxiously, unsure how to proceed. But then Q dragged his short nails down the length of his back, and when Bond arched into the touch, his body found its own way to make its wishes known. Within a mere minute, they found a rhythm that pleased them both. Yet despite the fact that the contact was intense, something was missing.

Bond rode the alpha for endless minutes, but while his orgasm built he wasn’t able to stumble over the top. He tried to reach for his member, but Q batted his hand away, and after some time, tears of frustration started to slide down his cheeks. He was so hot, so desperate, but the stimulation wasn’t enough. Riding the younger man simply wasn’t enough to make him come.

Leaning over the slender frame in exhaustion, he realized that he was pleading. “I need more. Please Q, I need …” He was not able to end this sentence, but when the dark eyes in front of him sparkled in mischief and asked in a silky and provocative voice, “Done exploring James?” he could only nod.

Within a second, he found himself flipped onto his back, his alpha towering over him for the first time since they met. And then the fucking started in earnest. Proving that he was well aware of all of his omega’s sensitive spots, Q started to dig his teeth into Bond’s earlobes, kissing his neck and teasing his nipples, leaving his agent whimpering with desire. All the while fucking him with strong and sure strokes, he had not the slightest problem locating Bond’s sweet spot and making him see stars.

Q’s fingernails dragged over his torso, twisting his nipples, one after the other, after licking and biting them. Rotating his hips to concentrate the overwhelming stimulation before drawing back completely, Q used the additional room to drag his nails over his agent’s thighs, raising him so that he could place a bite on the inside of it. Bond cried out at the overwhelming feeling, lifting his body off the bed so that the only things connected to the sheets were his shoulder blades and Q’s sure hands, which were holding him suspended in mid-air.

As soon as he fell back on the bed, after a gentle lick over the blooming mark that was appearing on his omega’s skin, Q entered him with another, nearly brutal stroke. One hand held Bond’s hip in place, while his other hand encircled Bond’s member and started pumping again. The motions were not tender and careful like before. Every downward stroke impaled James stronger on Q’s cock, while every upward motion made the man lift his hips along with him, trying to prolong the contact as long as possible. Soon Bond’s desire overwhelmed him once more, and after painting his naked torso with his sticky cum, he was floored when Q’s motions resumed while the young man started to lick his cum off of him with teasing strokes of his tongue.

Only too willing, the agent opened his mouth, when Q scooped up a part of his cum with his index finger and provided it. Desperate to latch onto something, Bond closed his lips around the digit and sucked on it feverishly. It was so much, too much already. The past two orgasms had left him sensitive and hyperaware of his body. Therefore, he could feel every square-centimetre of Q’s skin that rubbed over his own; every stroke of the cock that was buried deep within his pliant body; every movement that stimulated his prostate and promised to elevate him to even greater heights.

He was writhing on the mattress, covered in sweat and his own cum, and once more he desperately reached for his alpha, dragging him down so that their lips crashed. The kiss was neither tender nor teasing any more. It was pure, animalistic need. Bond’s need to be taken, and Q’s overwhelming need to dominant the willing body. It took them several more minutes, with Bond’s rising shaft trapped between their bodies, but Q finally arched back, tensed into his agent because the orgasm that he had tried to hold back so desperately over the last minutes finally came crushing in, rolling over him like a tidal wave. With his last conscious thought, he closed his hand over that of his agent’s, which had encircled his own shaft once again, and Q helped stroke him to his third orgasm in a row, while riding out the waves of joy that overwhelmed them both.

When he finally collapsed, he tried to roll off Bond, only to find himself encircled by his omega’s shivering arms that held him right where he was. He felt the older man trembling with relief and only a tiny fraction of distress, and Q could feel tears of joy wetting his hair when he heard his omega choked nearly inaudibly, “I am sorry I shouted at you.”

Wiggling free a little so that he could look up, he winked while saying, “Wasn’t the first time James, and will definitely not been the last; don’t worry about it.” Q laid down on his omega’s chest contently, fully satisfied, calm for the first time in a month.

 

~ 007 ~

 

The sun wandered over the horizon, and both men felt the sweat and cum drying on their skin, but they were far too comfortable to move. After several hours spent dozing off and on, Bond finally dared to voice the question that had circled in his mind ever since Q had uttered it, “If I repeatedly shout at you, why do you put up with me? Surely as an alpha, you expect better behaviour from your omega?”

Not sure if his partner would be able to meet his eyes, Q refrained from looking up, instead tenderly caressing his partners chest. “You behave exactly as I expect from you James. You are a strong and determined person, and I have grown to like that about you. You should disabuse yourself of the idea that we are a ‘typical’ alpha-omega pairing.” Finally raising his head, Q asked, “Do you know why we fucked just now?”

“Because you finally gave in after realizing I am not much use for anything else?” although his agent tried to make the comment easy and humorous, Q could feel the underlying apprehension.

So, he shook his head and explained, “No, I always enjoyed the physical part of our relationship, but that’s not why I gave in. The shouting you have just apologized for was the reason. You were scared out of your mind when I arrived yesterday. But today, when you finally made your stand, I could be sure that you would push me back if I did something you truly felt uncomfortable with. You have never been a person to give in easily. It took us months to get to where we are now. Well, where we were before this disaster has happened.

“I have a deep respect for you, James. You are an incredible man with a strong will, and I would never, ever, want to do something you are not entirely comfortable with. That’s the reason for our bond, the reason you trusted me with your life before. You always were sure that I would never ask more of you than you were ready to give.”

Thinking about the words, Bond hesitated a little before dragging Q closer and kissing the alpha’s hair reverently. Finally he admitted, “I might not be able to remember you, but I do trust you. If that is all you ask for now, I can give it to you.”

 

~ 007 ~

 


	16. It begins at the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bloody big ship.

Q and Bond spent most of the remaining day in bed and although it brought relieve beyond compare to the agent, it saddened him with every orgasm he achieved. Not because Q was not a thoughtful and caring partner, but because he was. He clearly knew things about Bond, intimate things. What James liked, what he disliked, what drove him crazy with want and he didn’t hesitate to use this knowledge to get him off, to ease his burning body and calm his mind.

But for himself, Q took nothing. He came when his body allowed it, deep inside of his omega, because his fluids and the contained hormones would ease the burning and the longing a little. And although Bond could feel the younger man’s satisfaction, something was missing, in Q and in himself and James longed for it more and more with every passing hour.

When they ate – Bond has been hesitant to do so because for the last weeks he only had been offered breakfast that was immediately followed by taunt – but Q encouraged him to take as much as he needed with gentle words and gestures. The older man took his time to look at the unruly curls, the swift fingers and the warm eyes that concentrated so much of their time and effort on making him feel better.

It frightened him to his bones, that Q had said that they quarrelled, that he never took anything that was not freely offered, that he was satisfied with whatever his omega was giving him since James felt in his heart that this was wrong. An alpha was supposed to take whatever he desired, to dominate and to rule. And it was the omegas duty to provide, no matter what his dominant partner needed or wanted. He was clearly the exception from this rule and a part of him detested the possibility to remember and becoming this self-centred person again. Q deserved better, this alpha deserved so much better than him.

As if sensing his thoughts, Q once again showed one of his enigmatic smiles. Smiles that made the agent unsure if the Alpha was smiling at or about him. When they entered the shower together in the evening, Bond tried to go down on Q the second time this day. But just like before Q nudged him up, encouraging him to turn around and took him on another wild ride. It satisfied the Omega, eased the burning, but it was just another empty orgasm, enough to placate his biology but not enough to ease his confused mind.

Bond was taking all the time, the satisfaction and the relieve Q had to offer. He took the comfort this alpha provided, but he was never giving anything back. Colebrook’s word’s started to drown him again. He had not been able to answer a simple question and that had made him weak and useless in the other alphas eyes. He couldn’t even phantom what it meant that he couldn’t give this, his alpha anything the young man desired, simply because he didn’t know him good enough to fathom his wishes.

„You are over thinking it James.“ Once more Q’s words soothed him and caused a calm feeling to engulf him. Bond knew that this was the result of Q’s influence through their soul-bond. There was really no other explanation. But although he tried to fight it; he really didn’t think that he deserved to be so at ease as long as he hasn’t figured this Alpha out; he was unable to disobey the words that resonated in his ears as well as in his mind, when a soft order was given, „Relax James. Relax and sleep, it will come back to you. Everything is going to be fine.”

 

~ 007 ~

 

Never in their entire relationship had his Omega felt so inadequate. Not even when James had struggled with the shielding. He had simply been angry then, furious even, but had never felt insufficient. Q loathed the alpha that has planted these feelings his Omega with a ferocity he had never felt before. It has taken an overwhelming amount of strength to ease his agent’s troubled mind and putting him to sleep. When he felt the even breaths of his Omega beside him, he pulled back a little and looked out of the window into the bedazzling night-sky.

Everything seemed purer here, the landscape, the sky, the buildings, the people, even the emotions. His love for this man threatened to eat him up from the inside and only because he knew, that these feelings would scare the hell out of his agent, he concealed them. Q was willing to deal with any consequences, but there were moments when he simply desired to sink his claws into someone and tear him apart, preferably the monster that had done this to his partner.

The next morning started the same way as the days before. The only difference was that James now ate freely, although he didn’t took a single bite more than his share. After that he fidgeted around in the room, going from one window to the next, circling Q who was trying to work in spite of the horrible online-connection he had in this building.

After an hour he gave up and snapped, „For heaven’s sake James, get out if you don’t like it in here.”

„But you said I am to remain in this room,” Bond’s confusion at this command was clearly written all over his face.

With a snort, Q tried his best to concentrate on his work again while explaining, „Yes, because you were trying to get away from me. I trust you to come back this time, or do you plan to return to England in sweatpants and a t-shirt?” Looking up couldn’t help but laugh at the bewildered expression on his agents face when he confirmed with an assuring smile, „I trust you James.”

„Why?” Bond was both relieved and overwhelmed by these words. He had done nothing to earn this trust. He hadn’t proven himself, so he could not understand why this young man was so open, so caring and so confiding, although Bond knew that it was true. Whatever might happen, he would return here, without the shadow of doubt. But how could this young man have so much faith in him, when the only thing he had done on his own free will was running away?

„Because I know you, better than you know yourself.” Q’s words were as gentle as his eyes, before gesturing towards the door, ordering with a smile, „And now get out. You are distracting me.”

„As you wish oh mighty alpha.” His voice was teasing and he got exactly the reaction he was aiming for. Q was showing a breath-taking smile and threw a pillow at him, when James fled through the door.

 

~ 007 ~

 

He walked through the generous garden and met the black man again, who seemed to go through some kind of fighting motions in the middle of the green. When he saw Bond he jogged over and ordered the agent to get back. When Bond didn’t comply, he retreated to physical persuasion.

But the omega would have none of that. With a dexterity he hadn’t known he possessed he threw the first punch, and nailed the tall African right in the face. It took only a moment and the two of them were engaged in a vicious hand to hand combat. Kaname trying to subdue him, Bond on the other hand was finally able to work off his frustration and his anger over everything that has happened to him.

His body went on autopilot and if he might have allowed himself a moment’s hesitation, he would have been surprised about the skill with which he was fighting. Not surprising it was Q’s words that finally reached him through the cloud of anger and frustration, „I would be rather unhappy if you kill him.“

„I have risked my life to get him out.” Kaname growled. “I am very hard trying not to. But he’s not making it easy!“ while evading a punch and twisting to nail this English bastard. But when he finished his twist the man had evaded him once again. He swore to god, this guy was more slippery than a damn snake.

Suddenly his feet were kicked out from under him and in the blink of an eye he found himself face to face with a livid agent, who had locked his arms in a rather painful grip and was crushing his windpipe with his strong fingers. Bloody hell this guy knew what he was doing, because although the black man was trying to fend Bond of, the agent would have none of that and continued to increase the pressure.

The proud smile on Q’s face, when he casually dipped of the ash from his cigarette, confused Kaname and made him slightly uneasy before the young man informed him, „I was not talking to you, Mr. Kaname.“ Before stepping up to the pair unafraid, putting his hand lightly in his omegas shoulder, ordering silently, „That’s enough, James.“

When Bond finally released him and stepped back, Victor could see his muscles vibrate under the strain he had just put on them. This agent was a scary man, forcing his body through extraordinary labour he clearly was not ready for, still he would have been able to kill him right now. Kaname wasn’t even sure, if he wouldn’t have, if Q had not interrupted their fight. The rage in Bond’s eyes had truly been murderous.

Struggling to his feet and feeling his sore throat Kaname croaked, „I was just explaining that he is supposed to stay in your room. He shouldn’t wander around.“

„Why not, he’s no prisoner here?” Q’s voice was provocative, sharing the cigarette with his partner who took it to calm himself, as if daring Kaname to contradict him. Therefore the dark-skinned man chose to let this one slide.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Returning to the main house, discussing the possibility of a trip into town the next day, Bond trailed behind the unequal pair and looked at his hands. He had been well prepared to snuff out this man’s life and hadn’t even thought about it. Finally a really important question dawned to him and he stepped up to the pair, asking in a slightly hesitant voice, „What am I doing for living, Q?”

Turning around, Q seemed to search for something in James eyes, before comfortingly caressing his arm while answering, „That’s not important, it will come to you.“

Bond was not at all satisfied with this answer, but Q’s body-language revealed, that he would not discuss this matter. After sharing a rather interesting afternoon tea, with a slightly uneasy ambassador who eyed Bond as if the agent was about to jump out of his seat to bite him, they returned to their room. The doctor came back and took another blood-sample to state the degree of deterioration of the drug in Bond’s blood. But for the most part the afternoon was uneventful, even boring.

Bond was adamant to ignore his body’s needs. The feeling of something missing was nearly as bad as the heat itself, so he didn’t want to increase the unease he felt. But when Q finally reached out to him in the darkness, he was not strong enough to resist any more. His body took and took whatever this alpha offered and his self-loathing was drowned in feelings of care and tranquillity that Q forced upon him, so that he could finally sleep.

 

~ 007 ~

 

The next day continued in the same way. Were there no sparing sessions with Kaname, James surely would have gone crazy by now. He still wanted a find a shared ground with the alpha that occupied his room 24/7, but as far as he could tell, they had nothing in common, nothing at all.

The only thing that backed up Q’s story that they were a couple was his overwhelming ability to dominate him, even if a part of him detested that, and the chain that hung around his neck. He had refrained from letting Bond touch it so far, and refused to explain what it meant.

The tranquillity of the following day was interrupted by a call from headquarters. Bond spent most of his afternoons sitting on the window-sill, smoking while trying to make some sense from memory-fragments and the accompanying feelings. At least during the spare time, when his body didn’t demand his immediate attention. The man was quite aware, that most male members of the human special preferred to have sex whenever they could. But for him it had become quite a torture the longer this artificial heat lasted.

Not that Q was not a considerate lover; nothing could be further from the truth. Most of the times he knew better about Bond’s needs, than the older man himself. But the more frequent they touched, the emptier the contact became. He found his release; his body was set at ease and Q returned to his laptop. Like satisfying Bond was nothing more than another job to him. But in the end it was always about his needs, Q never allowed him to reciprocate and that made him feel even worse.

His body was on his way towards the next wave and he realized from Q’s body language, that the younger man tried to finish his current work in a hurry so that he would have time for him. A part of Bond desired to just leave the room and go for a walk, or even better to take a run to work off the built-up energy. But he knew that this practice would be futile. He had tried to avoid intercourse before and it only got worse, up to a point where the desire simply turned into a pain that could not be ignored, just like it had happened in the cellar.

 

A call cut Q’s work short and the young man looked suddenly uneasy when answering it. Bond could just hear one side of the conversation but obviously someone was worried about his condition. Q’s words were calm and composed, but Bond could feel the underlying tension.

“Yes, I know.

“No, we can’t travel until we get the clearance from the local doctor.

“Of course, just a second.”

Despite the Alpha’s obvious uneasiness, he complied when Q gestured him to the sofa and offered him a headset. Putting it in his ear he looked up in confusion when Q instantly grabbed his phone. This guy really loved his toys. Facing the screen he found himself in conversation with a middle-aged man with light hair and a rather worried face. His words spoke of earnest concern when he asked, “Bond, how are you? How do you feel?”

A discrete flash drew his attention to the bottom of the screen where a small textbox had popped up with the words: _> That’s Bill Tanner. Chief of Staff.<_

Without looking up he took in the information and made good use of it, “Tanner, I’m fine, thank you. As Q told you, I am trapped here for a little while until we can get back home.”

_> Don’t tell him about your memory loss!<_ Q’s hands were furiously typing on his little mobile and Bond allowed his forehead only a slight crease, before returning his full attention back towards the man on camera.

“What happened? Do you need immediate medical attention?” once more the man sounded worried, but somehow Q didn’t seem to trust him with the truth. Therefore Bond improvised, “I think I’m in good hands here. Q will update you on my situation; he takes good care of me.”

The man on the monitor as well as the one standing in front of him frowned a little, but Bond didn’t have a clue about what. The young man was his alpha; surely they expected him to take care of him, nothing wrong with emphasizing that.

Luckily Tanner smiled and admitted in a rather fond voice, “Well, I have never seen him mounting a plain so fast and with so little fuss. He usually fights us tooth and nail when we drag him on an outdoor assignment.”

“Why?” Bond had no chance to finish his question, because Q suddenly barged in and after exchanging a few meaningless pleasantries, he cut Tanner off, sinking into couch hiding his face in his hands.

Bond eyed him for a good minute before asking, “You didn’t want him to know about the amnesia.”

A shake of Q’s head confirmed this suspicion, but the young man still refrained from looking at him. Instead he looked at the ceiling and lit another cigarette, taking a deep drag. Clearly he was the one who needed to calm his nerves right now.

When he remained silent, Bond resumed his inquisition, “And you are afraid of flying?”

With a low chuckle, and his arm once again covering his eyes Q simply answered, “Yes.”

Looking to Bond he grinned, while teeth flashing before saying, “Doesn’t fit the picture of the ‘all-mighty alpha’, does it?” His sarcasm was tangible in the air, as if he waited for the omega to make fun of him.

Instead the other man simply asked, “Then why did you?”

That caused the young man to cough up the inhaled smoke, so Bond took the cigarette from him and took a deep drag himself, looking at Q with interrogative eyes until the Alpha admitted earnestly , “Because it was you. I needed to come to you and flying was the fastest way.” Before he stood up and left the room.

 

~ 007 ~

 

After the sixth breakfast in this bloody room Q decided that it was time for a break. He offered Kaname a ride into town, because he and Bond would go stir-crazy, locked up in the embassy.

The house had provided its guests with spare clothes and when Bond stepped into the light linen trousers and closed the button-down shirt he vaguely felt like himself again. He took the holster Q gave him without a second thought and closed it around his ankle.

When Kaname stepped into the room, clad in light linen just like the two of them, he looked confused when Q took a gun out of his bag, connected it to a small, black box with silver thorns that seemed to sink right into the handle, before offering the weapon to Bond by the muzzle.

They turned around when Kaname asked, „What is that?“ and answered in union, „Walter PPK, 9mm short.“

Q added, „Just encoded to Bond’s palm print so that it is less of a random killing machine.“

„And more of a personal statement,” Bond concluded with a sly grin, before hiding the weapon under his trouser leg.

It was clear that neither of the two thought about this interaction. Kaname could see them gravitating around each other once again. Bond still seemed reluctant around Q most of the times, but even a blind man could see the attraction between those two.

The trip into town was uneventful but fun. Most of all because Q made rather sarcastic comments about the state of the surveillance systems in the street and Bond’s bickering about the lack of proper clothing stores. They were tired but well entertained when they returned to the embassy after dinner and drinks that night.

 

~ 007 ~

 

The heat has lessened and when Bond turned around in the middle of the night, his body was looking for Q’s. But he found the bed beside him cold and empty and therefore opened his eyes to look for his Alpha. The young man stood in front of the high dresser beside the door, typing away on his laptop silent but urgently. He was wearing his pyjama-bottoms and a ridiculous looking cardigan over his naked skin, but was still shivering from the nightly breeze that weaved in though the open window at his back.

Bond could hear an annoyed hiss and was sure that a similar sound has roused him from his deep slumber in the first place. Q seemed agitated when he spoke in a whisper, „No I don’t care, we DO NOT – under any circumstances – get code online that has not been checked by at least one other person! You know that R, bloody hell you made that rule!”

The same discussion, over and over again. Bond smiled, leaning back on his pillow, when suddenly memories hit him like a sledgehammer. Instinctively he raised his shield to spare Q his distress, during this work-related crisis. The bloody scale around Q’s neck! Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

Each and every encounter with his alpha flashed before his eyes, starting with their last good-bye nearly five weeks earlier.

Them, fighting over assignments Q deemed too risky. but the 00-agent accepted anyway.

Bond’s tick to leave wet towels scrunched up on the counter in their bathroom.

Missing milk and sugar in their kitchen.

Q’s agitation over woman flirting with him in England, as well as his alphas calm demeanour when the same thing happened during a mission.

Their first heat together! The accompanying bonding flashed before Bond’s eyes and left the agent panting. Q’s herculean effort to hold back until Bond’s had finally agreed to the soul-bond and the overwhelming feeling of love and care he had experienced once the connection had been made.

Moira’s gentle touch at their first meeting, after his research on alpha-omega-dynamics.

Q’s stubborn attempts to care for him, when he had nearly killed himself by alcohol-poisoning, after M’s death.

The quartermaster’s selfless support during the crisis with Silva, and finally their very first meeting in the museum, in front of that stupid Turner-painting.

That very first moment, when Bond had not been able to take his new quartermaster serious at all, overwhelmed him and choked him. How harsh had he judged that extraordinary man, who now stood in front of him in only pyjamas and a cardigan?

He exhaled enlightened, thrilled and relieved by the return of his memories and lowered his shields slowly, looking at HIS alpha with adoration and pride.

 

Sensing his omegas agitation unexpectedly, Q turned around. His face was slightly illuminated by the monitor in front of him, worry-lines clearly showing, when Bond whispered with awe, „A bloody big ship.”

Q drew a shuddering breath, his chest constricted visibly when tears started falling from his eyes. He forced a croaking laugh from his tight throat, when Bond slid off the bed and approached him cautiously, slowly intertwining their fingers while whispering tenderly.

„Q“

„007“

His quartermaster’s voice was barely audible, but his slender frame shuddered strongly, before he encompassed his agent in a bone-crushing hug. Forcing breath into his lungs through heart-breaking sobs, Q had to gather all of his strength to be able to admit, „I thought I lost you. I was so scared.”

Bond didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything, because the carefully created barriers Q had built, finally crumbled and the Omega was overwhelmed by his   
Alphas emotions.

The love, the anxiety, the need and the desperate hope he had held back for the last days, bleed into each other. And James couldn’t do anything but to hold on to him for dear life, assuring Q with everything he had, that he was back with him, back in his arms, back in his soul and that he would never leave him again.

 

~ 007 ~

 

With Q shivering in his arms, Bond reached for the laptop. He saw R’s knowing smile and the man mouthed a friendly >welcome back< before he disconnected so that Bond could close the lid. Turning towards the bed James sank into the too soft cushions and dragged Q with him. His alpha nearly strangled him with his hugs, but he would never, ever complain about his degree of love and devotion, despite being occasionally berated for missing milk or wet towels.

When Q finally relaxed more than an hour later, Bond put their foreheads together and whispered, “Thank you, for protecting me with your branches through this storm.”

Q’s hand was adoringly tender when he stroke Bond’s face with the backside of his fingers wile answering, “Branches can only grow so much without strong roots. I need you so much James. I never knew how much of my strength came from you, until you were gone.”

“We found each other despite the worst chances; we will always make it back together. I have a talent for beating bad odd’s.”, Bond winked at his quartermaster before searching for his lips.

Their first kiss was delicate and tender, but within a few moments it became passionate and needy. Finally, finally Q allowed James to push him back on the bed, looking up with adoring eyes when James opened his cardigan and kissed every patch of skin he revealed before slowly crouching lower.

It was that very moment, when Bond finally got rid of the stupid pyjama-bottoms and kissed his lovers aching pelvis, that he finally understood why Q had been unable to allow him this kind of intimacy before. During these simple gestures, these loving caresses, James felt overwhelmed by his alphas emotions. The love, the need, the desire coursed through him from Q’s end of the bond. There was no holding back any longer. Against Bond loving him, Q had no defences.

When James looked up, he saw tears glistering in the young man’s eyes, when Q dragged his fingers through Bond’s unruly strands. The love in his eyes could not be hidden and the omega knew that – despite everything had believed two hours earlier – this look would have scared the hell out of him.

He opened his mouth and drew a steadying breath to say something that would reassure his partner, anything that showed how deep he felt himself. But the right words wouldn’t come, his struggles only eased when Q’s whispered in an assuring voice, “I know James. I know.”

And with that they sank into the oblivion only their lovemaking could give them.

 

~ 007 ~

 


	17. Epilogue

Q was typing away on his laptop, booking plane-tickets for their flight to England, when there was a knock at the door that indicated the arrival of breakfast. Both men had enjoyed James’ returned memory, and their lovemaking that night had been all about Q. Something both men had relished beyond compare.

In the morning James’ body has demanded their attention and then once again they had enjoyed a quick fuck in the shower, just for fun. So they were sated and happy, prepared for a stressful day of traveling. Q had decided that they had waited long enough, so the agent deduced, that his quartermaster had simply tried to conceal his condition from headquarters.

Secretly he had been relieved not to be prodded and tested by their specialists again, like they had done after his return from the dead. Openly he had teased Q that the young man had just wanted to avoid being stuck with him for an indefinite timeframe, because he would not have been assigned to missions when in Uganda.

When the breakfast was delivered Bond took the tablet and offered the giant, black man at the door his hand. “James Bond.”

Kaname’s reaction could only be described as puzzled when he stated, “Yes, I know.”

Bond came up with his most charming smile when revealing, “And finally, so do I.”

After a moment’s hesitation Bond looked deliberately from Kaname to Q before stating earnestly, “Thank you.”

Following his gaze Kaname mirrored the agents smile before responding, “You are welcome.”

Nodding towards Q the black man looked down at Bond and said in a serious tone, “You have an incredible partner. Truly scary that one when he set’s his mind to something. You should consider yourself lucky.”

Looking at Q with a fond smile Bond agreed. “I do. Believe me, I really do.” before opening the door all the way, allowing the renegade into the room. They briefly discussed their departure and Victor Kaname once again assured that he would return to England with them.

A few hours later Bond prepared Q for the flight with several drinks both on the ground and up in the air, so when they finally landed in Heathrow the young man was dead to the world. With a brief good-bye towards his rescuer, Bond manoeuvred his Alpha into a cap and finally brought him home.

 

~ 007 ~

 

One very expensive and extremely heavy ash-tray flew by Mallory’s head early the next morning and shattered the expensive wood panelling behind the leader of MI6. Reaching for his gun he realized that Q had been the one to attack him in such an unsuitable fashion and decided to refrain from shooting the quartermaster. Instead he got up and asked angry, “Q, what the hell are you thinking?”

Stalking up to him like a predator to his pray, M had to supress a shiver for a brief moment, before leaning onto the desk, the young man threatened with a low, minacious voice, “I think that you will never give Bond an assignment like the one in Ruanda EVER again! Every mission for 007 will go through me and when I am not satisfied with the background-checks he will NOT take it!”

M’s eyes widened at the outrageous request and they never left Q’s even when aforementioned agent entered his office and stepped around the young man cautiously. M’s voice was calm and didn’t let any of his outrage show when he drew himself to full height and stated, “THAT is simply ridiculous and I will refrain from discussing such an absurd demand with you. Return to your branch immediately!”

That brush-off however seemed to infuriate Q even more, because he stepped up to the desk and leaned over it with fire in his eyes and steel in his voice when threatening, “If you don’t agree to this terms then …”

 

From threatening the leader of MI6 there would be no way back, luckily the quartermaster was interrupted by an intense, “Q, don’t.”

Bond’s voice was of calm reason when he stepped up to the younger man and demanded his attention. It was his nearly inaudible “Please” that granted it, so that he was able to communicate with his Alpha without having to resort to words.

~Please Q, don’t do this. This is our work. Don’t throw this away on my behalf.~

Pulling back from the desk, turning towards his agent, Q’s eyes showed how livid he was for this backtalk. Bond had to force himself not to retreat under his Alphas infuriated glare. Is instincts demanded submission, for him to step back out of his Alpha’s immediate range, to look down, to sink to his knees to placate his Alpha. But Bond had never been one to give in to his instincts.

So he took a steeling breath, stepped up to his Alpha and put his palm on the young man’s shoulder, beseeching him, “Please Q. Don’t do this.”

 

The young man drew a forced breath before literally shouting in his head, ~ You have been tortured! You could have died! I could have lost you!~ making the agent flinch at the desperation that was transmitted over the bond.

But instead of giving in to the anxiety, James just calmly shrugged his shoulders, reminding Q. ~It had not been the first time. Nor will it be the last that I fall into danger. But I will always come back to you. Like you will always find me, you have promised. Haven’t you? I have absolute faith in you, Q. Don’t throw everything away just for me.~

 

The agent lost a fraction of his tension when he registered that his Alpha relaxed a little. He stepped back against the wall and mentally prepared himself for a shouting duel and the fallout that was sure to come. He had contradicted his Alpha, in front of their superior, silently but no less apparent. No dominant would let this slide, not when his position was undermined so openly in front of a human.

 

But instead of being reprimanded, the agent witnessed the most unbelieving miracle happening right before his very eyes. Something he would have never, ever thought possible. Q, his Alpha, a man that had shown not only the ability but the determination to bend the world for his Omega, was bending himself.

 

Q glared back at Mallory, his fists on the table drawn so tight that his knuckles were white. After a moment he closed his eyes, and within a heartbeat he was bending his head in submission. His voice was composed and quiet when he apologized, “I am sorry M. I should not have made such an outrageous request and with your permission I would like to apologize and return to work.”

 

Mallory had not reached his position by being unobservant or ignorant. He was well aware to not push the young man in front of him any further. So he simply nodded and said pacifying, “Of course Q. This was a rather draining experience for all of us. Please return to Q-branch, they have missed you dearly.”

The quartermaster just nodded, turned around and left, without another look towards M or 007.

 

~ 007 ~

 

After a deep sigh Mallory resumed his seat and offered a chair to Bond. But the agent just shook his head and poured himself a drink instead. M’s voice was calm when he said, “I have read the mission-report. How do you feel?”

“According to the circumstances I would say.” was Bond’s dry answer after the first sip. The alcohol did very little to calm his adrenalin-fuelled body, but it helped until he would get the chance to speak to Q in private.

“I assume that with a designation it must be even harder for Q and yourself to go through such crises. But from what I have heard from Mr. Kaname and the ambassador in Uganda, you two have mastered it admirably. I realize that losing his Alpha to such a condition must be terrible for someone like Q. But I can’t allow my quartermaster to pick the missions for any Double-Oh agent. You are well aware, that you have the right to decline any mission with a good cause. I will accept if you do so, even if you confer with your partner in advance. But no matter how deep your contact is, you are the agent and only you can make the choice. I am sure Q will learn to deal with that.” Mallory showed true compassion and frankly Bond was surprised. M would have kicked Q out and reprimanded 007 for good measure.

So Bond nodded gratefully and put the half-empty tumbler on the shining surface of M’s desk. Rising he stated, “I think I will go now and see how he’s doing.”

When he reached the door he turned around one last time and said with a small smirk, “You know about our designations now M, just one piece of information: Alphas never go into heat. That state is solely reserved for Omegas, drugged or not.” With a humourless wink he left a baffled M behind and made his way down to Q-branch.

 

~ 007 ~

 

Bond still had to come to terms with what had just happened in M’s office.

Alphas were strong and dominant, determined and unmoving. When they made a decision it was carried out, no matter the circumstances. When they desired something, they took it, regardless of what stood in their way. These were the impressions he had gathered all of his life.

But Q had shown remarkable restrain and concern for Bond’s feelings. He had worked around James likings and animosities to create a life they both could enjoy and now, not five minutes ago Q had bend himself, had submitted to another person, a human none the less, only because his Omega has begged him to.

When James entered Q-branch he found the quartermaster standing in front of the main display, concentrated on his work. His shoulders were rigid and his mind was closed off so Bond had to ask what he wanted, no, needed to know. And it didn’t matter anymore that the whole surveillance systems of MI6 ran through this room. He didn’t want to hide any longer. Not when Q had given more than James could have ever hoped for and was clearly agitated because of it.

Bond’s voice was composed when he crossed the room with measured strides. “Why did you do it, Q? Why did you submit to M?”

The typing continued, slowed gradually and ceased after a few moments. Q took a deep breath and leaned onto his high-desk for support. When he finally answered, he looked at Bond stating the obvious. “Because you love your work, I wouldn’t want to endanger that.”

 

That’s what finally did it for James. How stupid was he to let ANYTHING come between this man and himself? Nothing was worth that, not even his pride. When he finally reached Q, he stepped into his personal space and sank to his knees right in front of his Alpha. Warm fingers brushed over Q’s hands, pulled them to Bond’s lips when he finally admitted, for the entire MI6 to hear, “Not as much as I love you.”

When Q looked at him with unbelieving eyes, completely swept off his feet by the declaration James simply laughed, rose to his feet and dragged his Alpha close so that he could kiss the hell out of him in the middle of Q-branch.

When they finally separated, both breathing hard, Q’s eyes swam with emotions. “James I …”

But Bond interrupted him with another kiss before assuring him, “I know Q. I always knew.”

 

~ 007 ~

 

When Tanner had finally reached M’s office after a meeting with the branch-leaders he found his superior in a thoughtful mood, looking out of the window. Sitting down he waited for M to start a conversation that was long overdue.

“So my most successful agent is an Omega and my quartermaster is his Alpha.” The statement hung between the two man like a bomb that was about to go off.

After a few more minutes Mallory turned around and looked at Tanner while admitting, “Frankly I am surprised that Q didn’t kill me.”

Looking at the ashtray and the crack in the wood-panels at the height of M’s head, Tanner mused, “Maybe he has a really bad aim?”

Reaching for the ashtray on the floor, placing it on his desk the director of the secret service stated in a dry voice, “I hope not, regarding that this man develops the weapons for our field-agents.”

 

His voice was vacant when he stated after another pause, “Bond and Q are a liability.”

Having been informed by Miss Moneypenny what has transpired Tanner nodded. “Yes, without any doubt. If we separate them, if we work against them, they will become a major problem.”

M looked at his Chief of Staff rather irritated and asked more than a little annoyed, “Then how can you be so calm? One of our best agents is an Omega, completely open to according manipulations and our quartermaster is a raging Alpha that would do everything in his power to protect him. Please explain to my why that is no concern to you?”

Tanner smiled a little. He has had more time to come to terms with this situation. He agreed with M. That duo could create more problems than any other agent-handler-pair in MI6. But the recent mission had showed that Q was highly considerate and quite reluctant to place other people’s lives over that of his Omega. What more could you expect of your Alpha-quartermaster?

Calmly he explained, “Because when you respect their bond, you will have an unbeatable team on your hand. They will do anything for you, without question, without hesitation. As long as they are together, those two can catch you the sun, the moon and the stars.”

With a reluctant shake of his head M asked, “How can you be so sure of that?”

Tanner has gotten up, ready to leave the office during that final question. Looking down at his wedding-band he gave Mallory an honest smile before he answered, “Because those two do something for each other no one else can: They make each other happy.”

 

~ 007 ~

 


End file.
